Solicitor and I settled into the-life-of-a-couple so gradually that I hardly even noticed. Looking back now I see a total decline in my young adult social life.

No longer am I traipsing about the damp streets of London at 5am looking for a bus that would take me somwhere-near home.

I no longer have a wardrobe load of fancy dress outfits for themed nights.

I have no idea where my glow stick and whistle are.

I don’t leave pairs of shoes at my friend’s house after a night out and borrow a pair of trainers to walk home in.

I no longer have friends in the friendly gay community.

I no longer listen to, or can source, underground unreleased music on vinyl that only a few selected people know about.

I can keep a supply of alcoholic drinks without drinking it all on the same night of purchase.

Anyway, last night Solicitor and I settled down for a fairly usual evening. Dinner, talking, reading, tv, and bed.

As I emerged from the bathroom, dressed in cotton PJs and fluffy slippers I heard a commotion through the open landing window.

“Seriously guys, I need to pee so bad! I’m gonna knock on someone’s door.” A girl urgently called.

~a peel of female drunken laughter~

“Stop making me laugh!”

“Just go in the bush! We’ve got to get there before 12 or we’ll have to pay!”

“Yeah, just go in the bush! Hurry up!”

My immediate thought was “oh god, please don’t pee near my property!”

I leaned towards the window and peeked out, twisting my head to get a view of the street. Four women, they couldn’t be more than 20 years old, dressed up in sexy club outfits. They had accessorized with an assortment of bunny ears, cat ears, devil horns, angel wings.

I smiled to myself. God, I remember doing that!

Wait, what!

I don’t do that anymore?!

It was a fairly strange thing to think. I obviously knew that I didn’t dress up in a tiny red skirt and devil horns on a Wednesday night, but still! It was like realising it properly for the first time.

“Lauren for fuck’s sack, slow down! Bec needs to pee.”

“I’m telling you, it’ll take 15mins max to get there. Just hold it Bec and run! The quicker we’re there, the quicker you get to pee.”

~the loud clipping of high-heeled shoes stampeded down the street, quieter and quieter…~

I slipped into the bedroom to find Solicitor in bed tapping away at his laptop frowning in concentration.

“We don’t get dressed up anymore.” I informed him.


“We don’t dress up.”

Solicitor slowly closed his laptop and raised his eyebrows.

“What are we talking about?”

“Bunny ears. You know, dressing up.”

Solicitor grinned. “You can still dress up as a bunny for me anytime you want.”

“No I mean in public.”

He paused. “You’ve lost me.”

“Ok remember when we used to dress up in fancy dress to go clubbing.”

Solicitor shook his head “No, I can’t say I did.”


“No. Fancy dress is a girl’s thing. What’s your point?”

“Well I don’t do that anymore.”

“Because you’re not 19 anymore.”


“Um, ok.” Solicitor stared at me. “Have you only just realised that?”

“No. I’m just, you know, saying.”


I kicked off my slippers and settled into bed. Solicitor wrapped his strong arms around me, like usual. He feels so good! Seriously, I’m not just saying it because he’s my husband, but his arms are genuinely perfectly toned and muscled. His chest is so solid, but warm. Definitely my most perfect place in the world.

“You know matchbox cars?” He said conversationally.

“Yeah, what about them?”

“I don’t play with them anymore.” He deadpanned.

“You’re an idiot.” I told him affectionately.

He kissed my cheek. “Wanna play?” he whispered?

“Damn, I’ve just buttoned up this shirt.” I complained

“No probs, allow me. I’ll unbutton it.”

I sighed happily. No, I don’t run down the street with my girl friends on a Wednesday night, dressed up in sexy outfits. But I’d rather play in bed with Solicitor than dance in desperation for the loo.

That’s why I don’t do that anymore!