Girls' night out

I rarely have a night out on the tiles these days. Well, I have lots of nights on the tiles but they're kitchen tiles and my dancing partner is my two-month-old colicky baby. It's much the same type of night really. It starts about 8.00 pm, finishes about 2.00 am and there's a lot of screaming and singing and using muscles you never knew you had.

Sometimes my husband is free to take over and I can get out for an evening. Because we take turns we rarely go out together so I end up calling my buddies for a girl's night out. Somehow they're always available and just as excited as I am.

I don't know what it is but the prospect of an evening with the same sex is so much more appealing than an invite to a dinner party for couples. There's always a bit of tension on those coupley nights. Maybe it's sexual tension. I'm never totally sure what that is. Is everyone thinking everyone else is having more sex than they are? Or do all the men want to have sex with me? Or do all the women want to have sex with my husband or do all the men want to have sex with my husband? Maybe everyone's just tense with boredom.

There's no tension on a girl's night out. Probably because nobody wants to have sex with each other. (Well apart from Nuala, the jury's still out on her). I think it's more like when the cat's away the mice get plastered and have great craic. Or when the cat's away the mice don't get sidelined and are allowed to say and do things which they otherwise wouldn't in a cat-dominated society.

I can hear the hissing already. It's true though. I know women who behave completely differently around their buddies than their hubbies. My friend Moira drinks her head off and curses like a mad woman when Neville isn't around. Donna, whose other half loves her to drink and curse, drinks tea by the gallon and the 'f' word rarely passes her lips. And Fionnuala is free to wear her sequined boob tube without the worry of Donal's disapproving looks. We're no longer the responsible mammies and polite partners we're expected to be. Nothing is censored, everyone relaxes and the hair is royally let down. We turn in to kids. We don't have the worry of the conversation on the way home in the car either. You know the one that starts with "What exactly did you mean when you said...?" Or "Thought you overdid it a bit on the brandy tonight...". Or "Did you have to burst in to tears in front of everyone?"

It's okay to burst into tears with the girls. They love it, and you don't even have to have a reason. They all burst into tears with you, it's part of the evening. It's like we have to get it all in before the clock strikes 12.

At a recent girly party, one of the boys turned up unexpectedly to pick up his girlfriend. He walked in to find her swinging a chair over her head and singing 'I will survive' at the top of her voice. On seeing him she immediately composed herself – in a split second the chair was on the ground, the singing stopped and all her clothes put back on. The look he gave her reminded me of Sister Cecilia when she caught me smoking a Major in the school sheds. Let's hope the punishment wasn't as bad.

We all blushed in sympathy as my friend was led from the party. But she left without a fuss because she had given it a lash and she was going home happy. Happy in the knowledge that on her girls' nights out she can be Gloria Gaynor for a couple of hours or anyone she wants to be.