There’s a strange weight to having a male best friend. People see us together and immediately want to assign a label, a story, a script. “Are you dating?” “Do you like him?” “Is there something going on behind the scenes?” And the truth is, none of that matters to us. But the questions linger, because society doesn’t really know what to do with a friendship like ours.

Girls’ night in our 40s hits different. It’s less “who’s getting laid?” and more “who’s still awake past 9?”

It made me laugh, that men actually wonder what mysteries lie beyond the sanctity of the women's bathroom door. Little do they know about...

Ireland calls me back in a way that I can't explain. Every time I go back, it's like I find a piece of myself that I never knew was missing.