It’s been a long time since I had a proper sleepover.

To be clear I am talking about a visit involving late night chats and secret sharing, not an all night “sexy sleepover” (different category altogether). I’m all in for of a sex fest (who isn’t up for a good romp?) But I have to admit, some of my favourite nights in have included wearing hideous pajamas and feeling hyperactive and slightly queasy from eating too much chocolate, whilst dancing my heart out to Britney.

My first ever purchase? The single of ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time‘. The single. Enough said.

Over the years sleepovers lost their sparkle. No longer will a friend invite you over for a straight up ‘sleep over’. Staying over nowadays usually includes the burdens of being so drunk you can’t get home, being stuck in woop-woop (middle of nowhere) or having to trek home in your party dress and heels the morning after.

Common excuses include; ‘I’ve got work tomorrow’ ‘I can’t leave my cat/dog/lover’ or ‘I have to be up early for the gym’. One friend said recently, “I just hate not waking up in my own bed, you know?” (Wonder if she feels the same about a one-night stand?)

My dear friend Sophie is going to be moving to London indefinitely and last night I realised it has been a few too many years since we stayed up all night talking (sober). I found myself asking her questions I hadn’t had the time to ask for months.

Lying in the dark, laughing, talking about our lives and what we want for the future, it dawned on me that one day we wont have time for sleepovers.

So now I’m at work, in the same outfit I wore yesterday. I’m feeling exhausted but blissfully happy. I didn’t have an all night sex romp. But I feel rejuvenated. I learnt more about my friend’s life in one night than in the dozen catch ups we’ve had in the last few months. It’s rekindled my love of sleepovers and convinced me to make the effort more often.

I want to stay over at a friend’s house, not because I can’t afford a cab home, but because I want to spend some quality time with her. Who knows? Maybe years from now our kids will be staying over at our adult houses, sharing secrets, giggling and scaring the crap out of each other with spooky stories.

2 thoughts on “The Lost Art of the Sleepover

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