Constant use had not worn ragged the fabric of their friendship*

Friday night we rented the movie Gosford Park, a murder mystery set in 1920s England which follows parallel tales of aristocrats assembled for a weekend hunting party, and the servants who work for them. At one point there is the ubiquitious after-dinner scene where the men retire for brandy and cigars, and the women retire separately. "Off you go, ladies," says the patriarch pretentiously, and I rolled my eyes at the sexism of it, feeling thankful I don't live in such an age.

But then, I spent much of the weekend in the company of two longtime girlfriends, and I realized that whatever the motivations of the men in that stodgy old tradition, for the women it was probably just girlfriend time. One of my friends lives a ferry ride away, so with the demands of a baby and jobs and pets and school, we don't see each other that often despite our relative proximity. This weekend, we got together with the husbands for dinner on Saturday night - but also informed the men-folk that Sunday was to be girlfriend time, which nowadays includes our newest member, an 18-month-old baby girl. "Off you go, gentlemen," we basically said to them.

The three of us have been friends since we were 12 years old, which means that our friendship has now lasted over a quarter-century. We've had the good fortune to all end up in the environs of Seattle, which seems nothing short of miraculous. Miraculous because between us, we have experienced graduations and holidays, road trips and foreign adventures, devastating breakups and heartbreaking deaths, depressions and injuries, moments of stupidity and poor judgement, moments of success and elation, long beach walks, strenuous climbs to breathtaking views, fresh starts, improbable serendipities, weddings and housewarmings, countless inside jokes, three dogs, six cats, and the birth of a baby. In both terrible moments and times of contentment, we can sit in total silence and feel completely comfortable. We are the ones to speak the unspeakable to each other, to name the elephant in the room that no one else acknowledges or perhaps even notices. We can also laugh so hard that we gasp for air and beer comes out our noses.

Our last big girlfriend adventure together was two years ago, before the birth of the baby, when we took a backroads driving and hiking trip around the Olympic Peninsula in a 1978 Volkswagon Vanagon. The morning of our departure, having all slept over at the house of the friend closest to our destination, we one by one came out to breakfast, picked up an object on the dining room table, and cracked exactly the same joke about it. A somewhat obscure joke, a bilingual play on words. The husband of the house, flipping us some send-off pancakes, just shook his head. "You guys need to get going," he said, "because you're starting to spook me."

So here's to friendships that do not wear ragged, and which are just a little bit spooky to the men in our lives. That's probably why the women were always sent into the other room.

* Dorothy Parker