The only thing more depressing than the staged intimacy and expected fun of a bachelor party is its modern day little friend, the bachelorette party. I have managed to avoid these gatherings and before my own wedding went to see The Prince of Tides, not something I recommend either. But like all bad things, I did get roped into one of them in the late eighties when women's liberation had taken a dark turn from Andrea Dworkin's grim pronouncement about having relations with your oppressor, ie, All sex is rape, to the freedom to enjoy pleasures your male cohorts did such as strippers and cocaine. Also, you could now wear suits with huge shoulderpads as a way of making your waist smaller. (Did anyone ever think this worked?) But I digress. The bachelorette party had the de riguer party favors, penis-shaped erasers and whatnot, and was held in an apartment decorated with neon beer signs and littered with cigarette butts. Martha Stewart Living it was not.
The party's big feature was a stripper who came to the door, dressed like an extra from Midnight Cowboy. He did the standard handcuffs, you've been a naughty girl routine for the bride to be who by my calculations was about three months along in her pregnancy. She didn't do the tequila shots that the other bridesmaids offered but instead she nursed a few Lone Stars, proclaiming that one last night of partying wouldn't hurt. Midnight Cowboy didn't hang around long, but did ask if he could use the phone so he could call his boyfriend to tell him he'd be late getting home. I didn't know anybody at the party except the friend I'd come with, a friend of the bride from high school. "That could have been worse," she said when we left as a consolation, sometimes the only one there is.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"I have been all things unholy. If God can work through me, he can work through anyone." St. Francis of Assisi
Cocktail HourDrinking website suggestion: Post Secret
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Sunday! I'll be posting pictures from the Chant show later tonight.
5 comments:
"Could have been worse." Now that's an endorsement. I remember the "all sex is rape" thing when I was growing up. I remember a woman around that time telling me that if any man ever opened a door for her she'd kick him in the balls. I was just glad I had been walking behind her when we got to the doors into the student center.
I think I missed that era of feminism,or at least the philosophy because for inexplicable reasons women kept kicking me in the balls.
Yeah many things could have been worse, it could have been like a real bachelor party where half the guys have sex of one form or another with the stripper/prostitute.
I have a bachelor party story to tell but i don't want to embarrass my BIL in case he ever tags on to my blog. Matter of fact it was the only bachelor party I was ever invited to, I guess everyone else was afraid to have me at theirs after that one.
For my own bachelor party I had my friend Jim Beam bring a quart over and we watched TV, I recommend this as the perfect "last night of freedom" to both men and women. That way there are no penis shaped erasers or vagina shaped napkins left over to be cleaned up afterwards.
Peace
TWM
Bachelor parties are horrific. I abhor srippers, I want to have the power not be controlled.
My brother Aaron's bachelor party was nothing like a bachelor party and evrything like barhopping--until we ran itno the party bus that brought the bachelorette party to the same bar we were at for the end of the night.
Then there was penis suckers being shoved in everyone's faces, penis candy, penis ballons (cheap rubbers?) and penis hats being put on everyone else in the bar by the bachelorette party. Then they sprung aquestion with fluttery eyes and displays: We could go on the party bus too, all the way up to novi ans west bloomfield--but that would be fifty bucks each, and on top od that, they needed to give it to the driver themselves, then they'ed be back for us.
We were not that drunk.
I blamed everyone else for looking stupid--I know that wasn't me. Not that time.
We all declined. One grumbled about it, but he fell into line.
But it was hilarious while it lasted. I have pictures--well, one picture. But it says it all.
It is sorta strange when you think about it, huh? Supposedly the last night before a girl dedicates the rest of her life to a man she will need to be totally focused on a penis.
It seems like when I was married getting a penis was not a problem.
Looking back now I would say that I missed playing my music as loud as I wanted, having the entire bed to myself, watching what I wanted on television, not worrying....do you think that anyone ever has a bachelorette party celebrating those things?
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