Celebrating Your Forever Friends

When You Know, You Know

I’ve always believed that real friendship is a bit like glitter. It gets everywhere, refuses to be forgotten, and still shows up ten years later in a place you weren’t expecting. Since moving back to Brisbane, I’ve been blessed with the kind of reunions that make your heart do a little tap dance in your chest. People I haven’t seen in over a decade have come back into my life like no time has passed at all. One minute you’re hugging them hello, and the next you’re halfway through a bottle of Savvy B talking about your ex like he was a side quest in a very badly written RPG.

Life happens. We move to other cities. We fall in and out of love. Some of us pop out children. Some of us pop open wine and cry over laksa (me). But the thing about forever friends is they stick. Like good eyeliner. Like Lulu’s cat hair on every item of clothing I own. No matter how long it’s been, or how different your lives look now, that foundation of love and chaotic shared history stays exactly where you left it.

I used to think maintaining friendships required constant effort, a million text check-ins, and attending every group chat catch-up that somehow ended up being on a Sunday morning (ew). But now I know that true friendship is elastic. It stretches. It accommodates your seasons. It waits patiently until you’re ready to pick up the phone and say, “Oi. Life update. I’ve got wine and stories.”

The Distance Doesn’t Matter

Since moving back from Adelaide in November last year, I’ve been having the kind of reunions that feel like soul medicine. The people I thought I’d drifted too far from have bounced back into my orbit like they never left. It’s been a beautiful chaos of hugs, catch-ups, and impromptu wine nights that somehow end with us trawling through our old Facebook photos and laughing at the fringe crimes of 2011.

What’s amazed me most isn’t just that we still get along – it’s how easy it is to fall back into step. Sure, life has happened. Some friends have become parents, others have moved states for love and back again (relatable), and some of us have started drinking wine that doesn’t come in a cask. But the energy? The love? The friendship? Still completely intact.

I had a catch-up recently with a friend I hadn’t seen in almost eleven years. ELEVEN. And yet, within five minutes, we were cackling over drinks and reminding each other of our most chaotic youth-era moments. The kind you swore you’d take to the grave. Turns out, we both have much better hair now, and way less patience for men who text ‘u up?’ at 11:43pm. Growth.

We Are Not Who We Were

One of the most beautiful things about reconnecting with old friends is seeing who they’ve become. We all change. I’m not the same version of me that moved to Adelaide, or the one who packed up her life and flew across the world. I’ve been divorced, heartbroken, homesick, and occasionally feral. And yet, the people who knew me before all that? They still see me. They see the whole picture.

And I see them. I see the friends who became mums and turned into complete softies while still managing to rock a killer eyeliner flick. I see the ones who left Queensland, only to come back like a boomerang with better taste in wine and zero tolerance for men who don’t own cutlery. I see the ones who stayed, who held down the fort, who didn’t change in loud ways but who glow with quiet wisdom now.

What bonds us now isn’t just our shared past, it’s the way we hold space for each other’s present. We’re not twenty-two anymore. Thank god. But we still remember what it felt like to be. And now we get to show up for each other as grown women who’ve been through some shit and still found their way back to each other. Honestly, it’s magic.

The Catch-Up High

Nothing compares to that high you get after spending hours catching up with a forever friend. Your face hurts from laughing. Your cheeks are sore from smiling. You’re suddenly seventeen, then twenty-five, then thirty-nine, all in the space of one conversation. It’s time travel, but with cocktails and skincare tips.

You don’t have to start from scratch. You don’t have to explain your entire backstory. These people already know. They were there for your red fringe phase. Your questionable taste in boybands. Your breakup that took three summers and twelve playlists to get over. And they love you anyway. More than anyway – because of it.

That’s the thing about forever friends. You might go months without speaking, but the moment you’re back in each other’s orbit, the energy clicks back into place like a puzzle piece. One glass of wine becomes four. One hour becomes eight. And before you know it, you’re making plans to do it all again next weekend. Even though you know you’ll both cancel because, well, life.

The Friendship Glow-Up

Reconnecting in your thirties and forties hits different. You’re less concerned with proving anything, and more interested in just enjoying the moment. You don’t care who pays for dinner, you’re just glad someone else is picking the restaurant. You’re not comparing lives. You’re celebrating them.

These days, our group chats are less “what are we wearing tonight?” and more “does anyone else have plantar fasciitis?”. But the laughter? It’s deeper. Fuller. Rooted in years of shared stories and hard-won lessons. And when we drink wine now, it’s not the $7 bottle from Aldi in someone’s dodgy sharehouse. It’s the good stuff. Because we’re the good stuff now, too.

So here’s to the forever friends. The ones who saw you before you knew who you were. The ones who remember your teenage dreams, your worst heartbreaks, your cringiest tattoos. The ones who, after all this time, still show up. Still laugh at your terrible jokes. Still make you feel like you belong.

Honestly? That kind of friendship is priceless.

And, conveniently, pairs perfectly with better wine.

Cheers to that.

We Need to Stop Clapping for Basic Decency – Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity

In today's episode of Chaos, Crumbs and Clarity, we're unpacking why we need to stop clapping for basic decency. You know the script. A man texts back within twenty-four hours and we're screenshotting it to the group chat. A man plans a date more than three hours in advance and we call him a unicorn. A man manages to listen, pay attention, and behave like a fully formed adult, and our nervous systems short-circuit because we genuinely don't know how to receive it.Here's the truth nobody is saying out loud. The bar has been dragged so low that Satan himself needs a chiropractor after a competitive round of limbo. We've been culturally trained to be grateful for behaviour that should not require gratitude. We've been told these things are bonuses when they're actually the entry requirement. And in the meantime, women have been quietly doing the basic decency thing forever, without applause, while men get standing ovations for outputs we generated for them.Today we're talking about why a great man is genuinely just an average woman, who benefits when the bar stays low, the invisible labour women have been performing for free for centuries, and the friend-test that cuts straight through every excuse we've ever made for mediocre men. Let's get into it.For more visit BryJaimea.com or follow over on IG @BryJaimea

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