Imagine this: you walk out of your room and stare dissociatively at your friends in the living room. You’re already anticipating the talk that is about to be had.Â
Personally? It’s one of my favorite parts of a night out: the day-after debrief.
Piecing together blurry memories, everyone tells the same story from completely different perspectives—opinions as numerous as the amount of vodka crans I ordered last night.
There’s something almost sacred about this congregation. Everyone is in uniform: a baggy T-shirt, fuzzy slippers, smudged mascara, and perhaps the most prominent accessory, a hazy recollection. Without a doubt, there is a late-night Taco Bell order sitting on the counter, and one of the girls chugs an insane, yet necessary, amount of water. Yet, we all sit together for the ritualistic conversation of what happened.
Suddenly, a group of girls with absolutely zero qualifications has launched a full-scale investigation into the events of the previous evening.
These are the moments we live for, and sometimes, I think we enjoy more than the bars themselves. Nothing bonds a group of girls quite like reconstructing the night before, except maybe collectively deciding which songs deserve your TouchTunes credits.
Some of my favorite moments with my friends didn’t come from extravagant adventures or anything worthy of a movie montage. Instead, we were sitting criss-cross-applesauce on somebody’s couch, looking slightly terrifying as we retold a story we all experienced, but somehow, experienced completely differently.Â
Somehow, we still had hours worth of things to say about it. We probably still do. There is truly nothing better than beating a dead horse.
I think the reason these conversations mean so much more than simply recalling the night before is because we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, something we are naturally so scared to do. But in these moments, we laugh at ourselves, reveal our embarrassing moments, confess what secretly bothered us and finally, say the things we were probably thinking all night.
No fear of judgment. No competitive drive. Not a single doubt that everyone had a good time.Â
Just a room full of women who feel safe, understood and, most importantly, heard.
There’s something so intimate about connecting with other women. Not intimate in the way we typically perceive the word, but in the sense that you’re allowing someone to know you in all the little ways that don’t seem important enough to explain to everyone else.
Women tend to remember these small, but important details about each other. We remember which friends might have made you mad, the story behind the dress you were so excited to wear and the shift in your energy before you ever have to explain what’s wrong.
Maybe that’s why we adore the female debrief—not because of the stories themselves, but because of the conversations that lead to truly learning one another—whether it be the good, the bad or the sometimes questionable.
We learn what makes the other person feel loved, what makes her insecure and what her goals are, yet we still love each other all the same. There’s something truly beautiful about being surrounded by women who have taken the time to understand you and continue to do so.
So, while the feminine urge to debrief is fun and exciting, I think the real reason we adore it runs much deeper. Being heard is one thing, but being understood is another.
To be known and loved because of everything we come to know about each other in these debriefs might just be one of the most precious parts of female friendship.