January 27, 2013 - Written by: Yazmin Joy

Girls

” She is my friend. She’s my family. My insides. She will be fine because she has to be fine. That’s how important she is to me… ”

Sex and the City

The city is alive with the sound of… women talking. I gotta tell you, being an ambitious twenty something has never been so deliciously convoluted.

It was November, and having just moved to London I had suddenly found myself man-less, jobless and unexpectedly homeless. I made the move because I guess I was (and still am) chasing all these big dreams. And to be honest I have no idea whether it’s going to work out or not. The dream of recognition, fortune and independence; where better to be than in the dazzling, shimmering city of London

This dream is fuel, it drives me, inspires me. Could I be one of the lucky few who actually make it?

In the movie of my life there would be a montage where I would be skipping around the capital in a floaty dress as Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely plays to the clickity click of my manolos on the concrete… Meg Ryan eat your heart out!

(image via http://www.fashionologie.com)

But in reality, this city girl fantasy was turning out a little more amazon than glamazon. Let’s just say right now I’m looking more Rodney Trotter than the desired Carrie Bradshaw. Gosh, being destitute is a bit of a bitch isn’t it?? Fuckkk!

While I was being kicked out of my (windowless) East Acton digs for reasons I can’t quite understand myself (long story), I found myself trundling along to a friend’s birthday gathering that was being held at a beautiful two story apartment in the affluent borough of Primrose Hill.

As soon as I walked into the living room I found myself in the company of girls. A familiar face immediately stood out and Vanessa* shuffled over in her sky high heels and flung her arms around me; ‘YAZ! So great to see you.’

Now, Vanessa and I met at university. A few things you should know about Vanessa is a) she is gorgeous. GORGEOUS I tell you! b) She also has this wicked sense of humour that makes her devilishly charismatic, and c) she has a heart of gold. Vanessa and I have this little tradition where we meet every few months for coffee and talk about our bastard ex’s whilst simultaneously philosophizing about what it means to be a woman. And it’s bloody fun!

Back to the party, a glass of pinot grigio was swiftly passed my way.

‘So how are you Yaz?’ Vanessa asked.

‘I’m ummm, you know… surviving….’ I mumbled.

All of a sudden a girl I had never met before thrust a small fuzzy creature my way…

‘WAIT!!!’ she yelled.

I shrieked as a stiff stoat-like creature landed on my lap. I looked down, praying I hadn’t unknowingly walked into some kind of cult ritual in which they had maimed the neighbors cat. But instead a toy meerkat wearing a union jack t-shirt rested on my legs.

‘It’s okay!’ the girl said, ‘it’ll make you feel better. We’ve been passing it around you see. I’m Grace*.’

Grace had flowing golden locks and a face like Claire Danes.

I promised myself before I walked in I would pretend everything was okay, but here it was tumbling out of my mouth like projectile vomit: ‘Well I’m currently looking for a place to live…’ A circle was forming in the group. ‘Because I have… well (deep breath) I have nowhere to go…’ There was a moment of silence. Oh gawd. Then I felt a hand on my shoulder. ‘You know I am going through exactly the same thing right now’, said Grace….

Cut to an hour later; the circle had expanded, pepperoni pizza had been consumed and more wine had been distributed. Looking around, I was surrounded by intelligent, confident, stunning girls who all seemed to be going through challenges JUST LIKE I WAS.

The conversation had progressed to relationships, men and sex. ‘The thing is even though I am happy being single I feel like there is pressure for me to be in a relationship,’ one girl piped up. Yeah, why is that? While a single man is a bachelor a single girl is… what? Alone? Here we were, most of us in our twenties and we were already feeling the pressure to settle down. ‘Okay, okay, okay….’ someone interjected, ‘would you sleep with a guy to get ahead in the office?’ That sparked an uproar of debate from the group…

A little while later the conversation took another turn and it was suddenly Vanessa began to speak. In confidence she began to talk about her ex, her first love, who had cheated on her. She confided that recently a tragedy had caused her to get in touch with him, and she had suddenly found herself reconnecting with the man she swore she would never talk to again. There was a communal exhalation of empathy from the group. The meerkat was speedily making its way around the circle in Vanessa’s direction. As I sat back with my wine and listened to her story it struck me the sense of comradery developing in the group. It was electric. It was empowering. And suddenly I didn’t feel quite like the mug I arrived as.

On the way home, Vanessa and I took the tube together. ‘Will I ever find the one?’ She sighed. I could see she was struggling with the pain of her breakup. I could see it because I knew that pain. ‘Yes you will…’ I said without a shred of doubt. She smiled. And that’s when I knew we would both be okay. By jove, I would find a place to live in this god forsaken city. And as for Vanessa, her broken heart would heal. You see, the female companionship I had found had given me a sense of reassurance and security that I had forgotten about. Vanessa and I hugged and we both went our separate ways.

As I walked alone through Tottenham Court Road tube station at 11.36pm in my party dress, (heels in hand) I heard some sweet chords echo through the tunnel…. A busker was singing a familiar tune…