RIP Friendsgiving

Friendsgiving, it feels like a long time ago now, a time far removed and distant. Possibly a different life altogether. Because it was. It was a life before responsibility, a life without kids.

Maybe you’re uninitiated, Friendsgiving is a pre-Thanksgiving Thanksgiving for singles, those committed, and the newly married (i.e. peoples with no kids). They get together, enjoy civil conversation and eat until all the buttons pop off their Guess Jeans.

I had some of these jeans and when your bladder’s about to blow you’ll have to practically build up to arthritis before making an opening for relief. Ladies, I don’t pretend to know how all that works for you but, I’m sure you have whatever buttons men have times 3. Also, I want to be crystal clear on my stance with Guess Jeans. I have no beef. If I could still fit my dad body in them maybe I would…maybe. Five years ago I could, and that’s where I’d like to take you. My first Friendsgiving with my wife in our first home in Fort Myers.

I remember those days (queue psychedelic flashback). We rolled out of bed at 10am. I prepared the fryer for the turkey—this is the best way to cook a turkey—she worked on the sides. Once all food was seen to I hopped in the car and headed to Total Wine to stock the fridge full of fine craft beers. I probably grabbed a few cigars as well because during this era I could still smoke these routinely—as long as I was within 50 feet from entryways to the home—shout out to my wife.

When the afternoon rolled around and friends arrived we sat and enjoyed, the beverage, the food, the banter, each others company. Perhaps we took in a viewing of the college pigskin classics so synonymous with the holiday season. We savored the food, life, and each other. We stayed out late.

Times are different now. Gone are the days of idle banter and enjoying an adult beverage, and relishing each bite of a meal. Doesn’t matter whether it’s Friendsgiving, Thanksgiving, Kwanza, Birthdays, or a picnic. The goal is to get the food in our mouths for energy not to savor.

I imagine Friendsgiving now with kids like raptors picking off their prey. The adults sitting around the table attempting conversation. The kids conniving and contriving to pull each parent away with spilled food, soiled diapers, open wounds and screaming. It’s for these reasons and the cost of booking a sitter by the hour that Friendsgiving is gone… RIP.

 

 

 



Also published on Medium.

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