Never Have I Ever

There we were, lounging on the white couches of DP's terrific terrace, simultaneously taking in the view and our cumulative weight in champagne. We all wore black dresses, and it occurred to me as both indicative of our newfound maturity and supremely silly that we'd all- unprompted- donned matching sheaths and pearl studs for a night in with the girls. The occassion was a sleepover, grown up style.

The idea came about one night while having a post dinner drink at DP's.

"God this view is fabulous," I'd uttered. "It would be so fun to have a sleepover here, light up the fireplace and wake up to the city like this."

"Why don't we?" she responded.

And so it came about. This time around, the massage circles and prank calls of our youth had given way to talk of scandal and weekend plans, but it was a sleepover nonetheless. We'd brought bedding; there was food (albeit shrimp cocktail and miniature red velvet cupcakes- girls love anything miniature). DP's mother, whom I hadn't seen since a dinner at Cheers the night before DP and my graduation from boarding school, popped in momentarily to remark how charming it was that we were christening her new terrace. We felt both 24 and 12. It was divine.

"Your turn, Ginger," H-Bomb started.

"I already went," she slurred, lighting a cigarette. I hadn't been aware that she'd smoked.

"No... remember? I said: Never have I ever 'gone all the way' in DP's car, and Tanny drank."

"Only in one of the cars!" Tanny spoke to her own defense.

"It's your turn, fair and square," she said. Never let it be said H Bomb didn't keep tabs.

"FINE," Ginger relented. And then she was silent, and we waited with bated breath for the next genius absurdity to come out of her mouth. "Never have I ever fucked in the kitchen sink." She looked content for having thought of something so original.

"Jesus Ginger, you already said that," I noted. "None of us had but you."

"Oh," she shrugged, not at all remorseful. We erupted into a fit of giggles.

It was then that I realized three things. One, Ginger needed water. Two, in our admittedly demented way, we'd still been the same kids we were over a decade ago. And three, that there must be something to this kitchen sink business if she felt compelled to say it twice.

In vino veritas.