I guess I'm not 22 anymore

You think you haven't changed a bit since your twenties, then life decides to remind you how very far you've traveled.

I've just had to write a Dear John email to a longtime friend, explaining that 20 years on we have nothing in common any more, so please don't be upset at my efforts of drifting away from you.

In the early days of my move to Chch (and first marriage) the clique I belonged to were serious party girls. We worked hard, played harder, and tried not to vomit on each other's new shoes. Some of us were in committed (ie out of the lunatic asylum) relationships, some were more like the girls from Sex in the City. My best mate was a kind of cross between the Carrie and Samantha characters; full of the deep & meaningfuls, but also one hell of a maneater.

We had far too much fun, but it was the 80's, booze was cheap, pot was plentiful, and the department store we worked in was right out of "Are you being served". (TV similies abound... sorry about that). I look back on those days and grin.

I'm glad I did it, but I'm more glad I never have to do it again.

Anyhoo, my mate up and shifted to Australia. This was a brave move for a Pom, and I told her so. But oddly enough, she found Oz to be exactly to her tastes, and despite a few random visits over the years we pretty much lost touch.

Then about 18 months ago she rang to say she was coming over with her new husband for Xmas in Enzed. Would we care to hook up?

She said the poor blighter was allergic to EVERYTHING (animals, cigarettes, vegetation, etc) so there was no way they could come out to the farm. Could we meet in town and spend the weekend together at a hotel?

Um.. yeah. Wayne cooped up in a city hotel for a weekend? But hey, we did.

What a disaster. We spent one night and part of two days together, and couldn't wait to go our separate ways. There was absolutely nothing in common to talk about except the good old days (effectively cutting the boys out of the conversations!), and even that fell short.

Their idea of a good time was to lie on the bed in the hotel room, drinking booze and watching "Friends" reruns. (Another TV show! Eeek!)

Meanwhile I spent most the first evening haggling with this upmarket hotel to get us shifted out of our filthy, nasty, rattly room into something barely worth the outrageous cost we'd been charged. We wanted to move to another hotel, but matey didn't so that was that.

Then the next day when we parted company, Wayne had a brainwave and checked with the hotel to see the usual rate on the room we were originally given. (Matey had made the arrangements and told us what our room cost was, and paid by credit card. We'd already reimbursed her.)

We couldn't work out why we'd paid $160 for a single night in a shabby room when just down the road earlier that year we'd paid $100 for a night in a beautiful room with a jacuzzi and breakfast in bed.

Imagine our shock to find out that the room had been charged at $80. So we'd paid for our room, AND mateys...

She'd already left for Queenstown so we chalked it up to experience, and decided this was a friendship we could let fall. (Double irony - we both really liked the new hubby, who as it turned out was NOT as allergic as she'd said, and seemed genuinely disappointed to hear he'd missed out on a trip to the farm. Hmmm ....)

Since that time Matey has phoned once or twice, and I've been cool/polite/distracted, begging off with work or headaches. I've ignored the jokes she sends by email (not my thing anyway), and figured she'd work it out eventually without me having to spell it out for her.

Yeah real passive aggressive. Whack me. But what's the alternative? Get into a fight? Nah, life's too short.

Today she emailed me to say she's noticed my coolness, and wants to know what's biting my ass.

I toyed with slapping her with the truth, but wimped out and said "we've grown apart, no biggie, have a nice life".

Back when I was a fiery 22 year old I'd have had a knock-down drag out with her over her behaviour *at*the*time* but I really can't be bothered.

A deeply naughty part of me is toying with the idea of sending her the link to this blog... but nah, I won't ;-)

So I'll let go of the hardened urban socialite that she's become, and remember the wild blonde with a big heart and snapping eyes, with a glass in one hand and a toyboy in the other.

Cheers mate, it was real!