I don’t usually use the term “girls” when referring to women my own age or older. I rarely even use it when referring to most females unless they actually are little girls of about 12 or under. Part of that is the feminist movement, part of it is about the sexual harrassment training I’ve gone through as a government employee, and part of it is about respect.

This weekend, though, I used the term often.

It was my way of trying to show my bond with certain women. lisa and hollie have been in my life for so long that I can barely remember a time that they weren’t. The minute any of us are together, it’s like coming home. Adding julia to that mix was natural because she’s so much like us.

I’m quite shy and rarely go out to bars or dancing or anything like that. We went out this weekend. I danced, laughed, and joked around. I behaved in a crazy way.

At the end of the evening, I was sitting at a table after my girls had left to go home to go to sleep, waiting for David to finish playing pool, and was talking with ~feigned innocence~. I apologized to her for not speaking too much. Sometimes my shyness gets in the way. She said she didn’t think I was shy, that she had seen me out there dancing. I said, “But I was with my girls.”

And it was true. If I were a gangsta, they’d be my homeys. I feel safe with them. I can do anything, say anything, hug them, kiss them, blushing deeply even look at clit piercings, and it will be ok. I’m home. I’m safe.

They are my girls.

This is for them, my girls, my sanctuary, my heart, my soul, my protectors. This is to those 3 women who loved me, cuddled me, teased me, laughed with me, cried with me, and have been my friends.

I love you.