I love sleepover parties for adults that don’t involve the walk of shame come morning. When you’re dating, you have the extraordinary ability to experience several adult sleepovers, even on school nights. You can stay up all night drinking, playing dirty scrabble, or head up to the roof to pretend you know anything having to do with anything astronomical. And you can have a sleepover party with a different person, where you’re playing different games, and sharing new stories, almost every night. How exciting.
Only when I was single, I never had such an enlightened perspective. Instead, I’d say, "I’m an old-fashioned girl," smile, thank him, then enter my apartment alone. I wanted to be married. I was tired of Pam Cooking Spray sleepovers. I wanted a bunk bed mate.
I’ll spare you the grass-greener perspective and just say, sleepover parties rule. Especially Straight Up & 30 sleepovers. I’m reminded of this as I try and update/migrate/rescue my site, recreating new galleries, culling images from the past five years. I came across images from my 30th birthday (I’m now 33), and I have to say, that was by far my favorite birthday. I was glad I’d done a trial-run for my 29th birthday, having a come-one-and-all bash at a trendy bar in New York. People from all areas of my life gathered: work, college, blogger, camp, hamptons, relatives, etc. And while I loved seeing all those faces, I didn’t enjoy the night. I was too worried about letting everyone know how much I appreciated them being there, wanted so much to connect with each person, that I wasn’t able to really connect with anoyone. I was spread too thin. So when 3-0 rolled around, I knew exactly what I wanted: one on one time with my nearest and dearest. A weekend in a house with wine, bored games, and comfort foods.
Everyone needs to have an adult sleepover party–in their honor–in their lifetime. People don’t remember gifts; they remember experiences. This is one worth making.