by JAMILA RIZVI
I truly believe that there are some kinds of hurt that can only be healed with a tub of Neapolitan swirl, a chick flick and your girlfriends.
I don’t have a scientific basis for this pronouncement but back in the day, a group of old American dudes declared some self evident truths and now I’m going to do the same.
My girlfriends and I have our ‘dealing with heartbreak‘ routine down to an artform and it always involves some variation on the essential items above.
Exactly which variation depends on the length of the offending relationship and the level of evil doing committed by the man involved.
And somewhere between the heartbreaking romantic climax of the first film and the laugh-so-hard-you-wee-a-little-bit moment in the second – somehow everything just seems: a little bit less awful.
The strange thing is – this little exercise isn’t too dissimilar to what we do when we’re gossiping about a new relationship, or mourning the loss of a grandparent, or celebrating someone’s work success or in fact, just hanging out together.
And that’s because a girls’ night in is always infinitely more enjoyable than a girls’ night out.
Critical though, is the correct choice of film. In fact, the wrong film can spell DOOM for a girls’ night in. Okay, notsomuch. But still, if you’re having a girls’ night in, you may as well do it properly.
And that means not being suckered into hiring some trashy try-hard piece of crap, with more Hollywood stars than can fit comfortably in a Tarago (Valentines’ Day anyone?)