Friends of a feather ...
I think the youngest of us was 18 and the oldest 21 when we all first met. But when we did meet, through a mutual friend, we all just clicked and became the best of friends: me, my then-husband and six guys who were already friends. We shared a bend-over-and-hold-your-stomach sense of humor, a quick wit, a teasing (only mildly insulting) sarcasm. No sacred cows; every topic was fair game. We all became instant, closely knit, do-everything-together friends. Some friendships are like that.
Very soon, the guys were at our house most every night. It was like a family; we'd eat together, talk, play music, watch TV, play backgammon, go to the store, play "washers" in the backyard and laugh and just completely enjoy the ease and comfort of good, close friendships. When one of the boys came over, they just walked right in; it would seem weird if they were to knock on the door and wait to be let in. They weren't guests; they were family. It was the late 70s and we were free spirits, late hippies (I wore halter tops and macramed large wall hangings for the living room - LOL!), enjoying the freedom and fun of being young and happy/hippy. In the summer, Fridays after work would find us spontaneously decide to drive out to the river for the weekend. None of us had any "real" money; we barely had "real" jobs. But we had "real" fun together, sitting on the river or at a river bar by day, all of us sleeping in the van together in the campground by night.
It's said that people come into our lives for a reason, or a season, or a lifetime. Over the years, there were marriages, babies, divorces. The guys each got married, one by one; some of us were in the weddings. As we all started families, we didn't see each other as often as before, but we were still the closest of friends ... although we knocked on the front doors now, in consideration of the spouses, you know. A few of the friends moved on to other life situations and other locales. When my husband left in 1980, I was lucky enough to keep the friends.
There are four of us now who still stay in touch, who still call or visit, usually at my place. The guys don't knock at my place; they never have. Walk in, big hug, big kiss, big smiles all over the place! They were all over at my place yesterday and we had fun all afternoon and evening, eating, talking, laughing, playing backgammon. I'd forgotten how men can eat! Good thing I ordered a sandwich platter because they ate every single one and it was good to see them helping themselves, so at home in my home, as they alway are and always have been. I'm not a hostess when they visit (I didn't even bother with shoes yesterday); they know where everything is, or they know to ask, and they just help themselves. (One of them even installed a new toilet flapper for me just before he left. Yay!)
I'll sometimes stand aside and just watch them talking and joking and I smile all the way to my liver, utterly contented and filled with love. I love these three wonderful, terrific, loving, caring, hilariously funny men that I've shared a friendship with for over 30 years. For some reason, we all just clicked.