I’ve always gotten along well with people of the male variety. Men are less complicated than women (usually). You throw in a hockey obsession and it’s always been easy to be friends with the male variety.
After we got married, my husband and I moved to a small town that is a four-hour drive from the guy friends I (we) had. Friends that I had known in college and in my big city life faded into the background, except for the occasional FB status update. If we lived in the same town, I’m sure there would be get-togethers or the occasional coffee to catch up with each other. Male friends (who are not ex-boyfriends) that got grandfathered into our relationship are a non-issue, as my husband considers them friends as well.






Or so this Globe and Mail article says: 
You’re sitting there reading these words I have typed, so I think that it’s safe to assume that you joy reading blogs, whether they be the ones here at Work It! Mom or elsewhere. I am sitting here typing this post and have been doing so in this space for two years now (and at my personal site for over five years), so it’s pretty obvious that I like blogging.
I’m back working in an office that I’ve floated in and out of for the past nine years. The senior staff are pretty much the same group as what existed back when I first started. As such, we have a history and there are a few that I consider to be more than mere colleagues; they are friends.
When I returned from 