In keeping things topical, I want to comment on something we saw last weekend during Rob’s bachelor party (which, incidentally, was a blast).
So I’m standing at the bar, trying my best to get the attention of any of the myriad of bartenders flying around, in order to buy Rob his umpteenth shot of the night (it ended up being a Kamakazi for anyone interested). A woman standing next to me at the bar turns to me and starts talking. She’s with two other women, and the biggest reason that I even noticed that was because they all had various… um, phallic paraphernalia. They also each wore a nametag depicting a stereo-typical stripper name; I had the pleasure of speaking with “Exotica” and “Bubbles”. Even at this point, I could possibly have ignored the entire situation had they not asked me if I was wearing boxer shorts and, more to the point, if they could have them for a scavenger hunt.
Not surprisingly, they were there for a bachelorette party (of which there happened to be many in AC that night). In trying to get the conversation away from my boxer shorts, I started talking about our respective agendas for the night. What followed was a more detailed schedule than that of the recent Democratic Convention (intentionally omitting any political views I may possess here). Everything was planned down to the minute, with all sorts of “extras”. These extras seemed to all involve random men for one reason or another, be it getting phone numbers and boxers alike.
Our agenda was much more simplistic. Atlantic City: Dinner, Drinking, Gambling. Not necessarily in that order. We didn’t head down there with any idea of which restaurant, bar, or casino we’d end up at. And more importantly, we didn’t have any cute bachelor party games planned; Rob did not get a pair of rubber breasts to carry around all night and I most definitely did not ask for anyone for her bra.
Which brings me to my point. Bachelor parties are typically held in the poorest light. Guys, either attending or being the reason for said party, typically get some form of crap for what may have transpired on that night (to give credit where credit is due, Meg has not expressed an ounce of concern about what may emerge from the delusional mind of Lucas for my bachelor party). Yet last weekend was an example of what I seem to see more and more; bachelorette parties appear to be much more risque than their male counterparts. So before getting up in arms about what Joe Bachelor may do at his bachelor party, I ask that brides-to-be first wait to see what the maid of honor has in store for their bachelorette party. It’s probably not as PG-13 as you make it out to be.