Why We Still Have Girls' Nights

"We made a deal ages ago. Men, babies--doesn't matter. We're soulmates." -Sex and the City 

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The most frustrating thing for a writer is, of course, not being able to write.

If you’re a writer of any sort, you know exactly what I’m talking about: the unsettling pit in your stomach when you have too much to say, but no way to say it. The angst you feel about every situation because, really, you should be at home writing, but you physically cannot force your brain to put your thoughts into coherent sentences. You lose hair. Your nails are bitten down to the nubs. You sleep too much because your sleep is mediocre and full of stressful tossing and turning, just in case your next idea comes to you in a dream. You make all situations melodramatic because—hey, that’s what writers do anyways—and maybe missing the bus because you needed Starbucks coffee in a foreign country was worthy of writing about. Or maybe not.

So, after about six days of miserable writer’s block, I have discovered a new cure.

Beer.

And chocolate.

And boy-talk.

But mostly, all of the above—with your girlfriends.

Well, maybe not a cure. But at least a bit of alleviation of the pain that is writer’s block.

But really, what can’t a good girls’ night cure?

Last night, me and four of the coolest chicks in Buenos Aires stumbled into a little German pub in a trendy little area of the city called Las Canitas, a mere six blocks from my apartment.

“God,” I groaned, desperately confused at the menu, trudging, inept in the world of Spanish once again. “What I wouldn’t give for a good wheat beer.”

Emma, with her hood on, eyebrow piercing, rubber smile and fluency in Spanish, said, “There’s a whole list right there.” And pointed to the area on the menu where I could pay 33 pesos (or approximately 8 USD) for a good, blurry wheat beer that would be the savior to my taste buds for the night.

I giddily ordered the wheat beer, while the girls got other various overpriced drinks, and we began to talk.

And then I remembered why I love my girlfriends so much.

I remembered that it doesn’t matter your geographical location; girl time is always necessary.

Last night, writer’s block and all, I sat drinking wheat beer in a bar, in the southern hemisphere of our massive, crazy world for three hours with a feisty black girl, a wannabe (and actually) hipster to the core, a sweet badass, and a laidback health nut who are all worlds different than I am. And no surprise at all: we had one of the best, most inappropriate, funniest, inspirational conversations ever. We laughed. We talked about serious things, funny things, family things. We analyzed the difficulties of life, of traveling, of our new city. We talked about boys. We, cliché as ever, bonded.

It was beautiful.

Later that night, after three hours of gawking with the girls at sexy guys across the pub, being hit on by two men who were clearly over the hill about ten years ago, and a pot of incredible chocolate fondue,  we walked Nena, (the sweet badass) to the bus stop. We stood, full of beer and chocolate, frozen from the Buenos Aires wind at 2 am together without complaining, and laughed as Nena missed the bus because we were beso-ing each other’s cheeks for too long. After a little more inappropriate conversation and seeing Nena off on the second attempt, we all went our separate ways home, to our different parts of the city.

And so there I was, after an epic night: awake and frustrated, journal open to sad, blank pages. But then I got to thinking: Every single one of us that sat at that table has immensely different interests, different tastes in drinks, different religious views, different backgrounds, different goals and different reasons for travelling.

But there we were: together.

The only thing, other than our chromosome count, that we all have in common is that we were brave enough to choose Buenos Aires as our next destination. We all ended up here, somehow, together. Together and so different, we had one of the best Buenos Aires nights so far, at a little hole in the wall German pub over some delicious chocolate, good beer and sappy, wonderful conversation.

How cool is that?

Cool enough to write about, I’d say.