-Twentysomething males often refer to their guy friends as “my boys.”  Likewise, women often refer to their female friends as “my girls.”  But there’s a huge difference between my boys and your girls.  Namely, your girls suck.  Your girls change every season.  Your girls are catty.  One of your girls probably fucked your boyfriend.  Female friendships are often contentious, jealousy-ridden, and, ultimately, ephemeral.  But not so with my boys.  I started with a group of friends in elementary school, gained a few in high school, added several recruits during college, and all those guys remain my boys to this day.  Moving to Los Angeles last year was difficult, but whenever I get a text message from one of my boys back East telling me how big a crap he is currently taking, along with how little he misses me, I feel like I never left.

-All my boys have an understanding that they will endure vicious but good-natured verbal abuse from one another.  For instance, a few months ago my boy Gadi gathered our high school crew together and told us he would soon be moving back to his native Israel permanently.  With a lump in his throat, he explained that his “soul just feels better in Israel.”  At which point we all broke down laughing.  Now he can’t say a word without getting made fun of.  Gadi: “So what do you want to do tonight?”  Us: “Not sure, how does your soul feel?”

-But at least Gadi was able to take the abuse face-to-face.  My old roommate Brian was not so lucky.  He once made the unfortunate mistake of going to Europe with a friend and leaving a cell phone voicemail message that said, “I will be out of the country for two weeks.  If you need immediate assistance, please contact my fiancee.”  Oh sweet mother of God how could you leave a message like that?  When Brian returned home he had about twenty-five voicemails from the boys requesting “assistance” from his fiancee for, among other things, eating his own ass.  Even Gadi left a scathing message, which presumably made his soul feel much better.

-Clearly, your girls are clouding my boys’ heads.  Like recently when the boys received an Evite from our friend Seth’s girlfriend, announcing Seth’s birthday party that Friday, 10pm, at Stir Bar.  Fair enough.  That is, until Seth, demonstrating an egregious error in judgment, emailed the boys a few days later asking for suggestions on where to throw his girlfriend her own, separate birthday bash the following weekend.  Triplet #1 was the first to respond, emailing, “Yeah, I have an idea – how about this Friday, 10pm, at Stir Bar…at your fucking party.”