If you are me or know me, it should come as no mystery to you that I am a tea addict. And not just any tea. If it comes without good company and conversation, it is a thoroughly useless attempt at enjoying my life.
Now talks over tea (again if you are me) are a tediously sublime experiment (to be tried at your own risks depending on the person you are having said tea with). The underlying fact remains that you cannot enjoy such moments with men (unless they are gay or so in love with you they would agree to senseless ramblings, fact proven over the years where no man ever asked me if I wanted to go on a tea date with him...).
So what do women talk about over tea?
Shoes left under the bed; accessories lost on the dresser; walking down the street at 1:30 in the afternoon, just two people walking together; the long nights of drinking and talking; the arguments; thinking of suicide; eating together and feeling good; the jokes; the laughter out of nowhere; feeling miracles in the air; being in a parked car together; comparing past loves at 2am; mothers, daughters, sons, cats, dogs; sometimes death and sometimes divorce; but always caring on, always seeing it through; reading a newspaper alone, parks, even jails; her dull friends; your dull friends; your mystery, her dancing; your flirting, her flirting; her life, your life and inevitably life as we wished it would be...
