Can We Please Have Sleepovers In Our 20s?
I know that there are many things about childhood that you are supposed to age out of. I don’t expect my parents to pay my bills (though it would be sweet if they would), I am glad I no longer have a bedtime, and I don’t want to be told what I have to eat for dinner. I get that there are many things about growing up that are just necessities, and part of being a responsible adult is no longer enjoying the same things you did when you were seven. But there are some things we did which seem a complete shame to stop doing, even as we age into the bracket that requires a full-time job and a profile on a dating website. I need sleepovers now more than ever, and maybe you do, too.
And I’m not talking about “adult” sleepovers, which largely consist of having sex with someone relatively new you’re bringing home, and perhaps a flirtatious breakfast wearing the dude’s button-down shirt if all goes according to plan. I want a real sleepover, where I bring my girlfriends over and we stay up all night, watching TV, eating snacks, talking about boys, braiding each other’s hair, doing our nails, and generally having a wonderful time free of judgment or expectation. We can wear our pajamas and consume as many cinnamon rolls as our hearts desire, only wary of being the first to fall asleep and therefore becoming the receiving end of lighthearted pranks, such as having a penis drawn near our mouths or the tips of our fingers put into warm water so as to induce bed-wetting. (Come to think of it, that sleepover prank is actually incredibly malicious… sorry if I ever subjected you to that in the more free-wheeling days of my youth.)
The point is, every awesome thing we were able to do when we were kids and got together for a night of no sleeping, we can now to do the next level, because we can get crunk whilst doing it. Imagine the scary stories, the trashy television, the games of “never have I ever,” all while slightly wine drunk and even more chill on the inhibitions front. Why isn’t every weekend spent having these kinds of amazing all-nighters amongst friends? We owe it to each other to share in the love we often now only reserve for people we are planning to have sex with, the kind of talks that can only happen right before the break of dawn after a night spent together doing stupid shit together you know you’re going to remember for the rest of your respective lives. Friendships need the occasional moment of maintenance and attention, why not go for a tune-up by having everyone over to bond under the pretext of “we’re all sleeping over, why not have as much fun as possible?”
There is something magical that happens within the human brain when you are around other people in your pajamas; anything is possible during the pajama hour.
We know that sleepovers are a fun opportunity to just get together and be ourselves around friends without the pressure of being out and about, or even the assumption that everyone has to get wasted to have a good time. There is nothing wrong with centering an evening around chatting, snacking, and — yes, okay — maybe the errant glass of (fake) champagne. When we were little girls (or boys) there was nothing better than having a night just dedicated to renewing friendships and learning new things about people you assumed you knew like the back of your hand. Now that we can do it all again without parents coming down at thirty minute intervals to tell us to be more quiet, why not do it now? You don’t have to go on vacation to have an overnighter with friends (which, a) who has the money to do that regularly and b) you guys will probably stay in different rooms anyway). You can just have people over to your place in your own city, all you need is a couple terrible movies and a tube of Pringles and you are good to go.
A | A | A
Nobody actually expects you to act like an adult for a while.
“What are you going to do with an English degree?”
I’m finding it hard to muster any sympathy for this asthmatic leatherneck. Instead, there is only contempt.
He noted that during trial, the women (we made up three out of the four mockers) mumbled to ourselves in between questioning witnesses.