Last night I had book group. I live for book group. The most studly, richest, most perfect man in the world could not convince me to skip book group – really (unless he waved a pair of tickets to Tahiti under my nose. That might work). There were only 5 out of a possible 13 participants but it mattered not. In fact, it was kind of nice. We are all strong, loud women so if you get us all together we tend to yell over the top of each other getting louder and more insistent with every glass of wine.

Last night we managed to talk to each other for the most part. Not about the book, really although we did give it a short chunk of the night (The Mermaid Chair – meh). Mostly we talked about us; about our relationships, our lives, our kids, our needs, our pain, our dreams, politics, losing kids, losing parents, food – you know. No topic is off limits and no one is short of opinions. We drink, we talk, we fall in love with each other.

There is a reason men worry about becoming marginalized. They just aren’t half as interesting as women nor are they as capable. In fact, I might go so far as to say they have a very specific use and if they would just shut their yaps and stick with the program the world would be a better place. Not really – but when I’m fresh out of book group that’s just about how I feel.