Jumping Someone Else's Train

So last night I crashed my friend's bachelor party.

You may think I'm kinda crazy, a nice and fairly attractive lady like me wanting to throw myself into a scenario consisting of rowdy, overly hormonal drunk men and strippers and lord knows what else, but these are my friends. My second family, if you will.

I grew up with a posse of boys. A whole mess of creative, nutty, intelligent goofy boys. Like 15 of them or so. Most with one syllable names... I wasn't a tomboy, though. I sort of look at each of us as a part of a whole, and we each have something to contribute to the whole, and we each had a very important part of bringing each other up. So I guess there had to be a token girl, right?

We had (and continue to have) all sorts of adventures. Nothing terribly evil (well, I guess there were a few arrests). There are more great stories in our history than I could ever write down in my lifetime, cause they just keep piling up. We've gone through high school dramas, family traumas, drunken all nighters, weddings and births, car accidents, costume parties (lots of those), mischief and mayhem, everything.

We used to talk about our futures, and marriage would inevitably come up. I would say, "When you guys get married, you HAVE to invite me to your bachelor parties or I'll kick your ass!" And they would say, "Hell yea! You're totally going to be there, Mo!

Has that been the case? Ummmm... no. Most of my boys are married now, and was I invited to a single bachelor party? No, not even to say, "Aw, thanks, but I don't think so." And, well, I'm just a little bitter about it.

They all know it, at least, because everytime one of them gets married I bitch about how I was not invited to the bachelor party. It's just dumb - I doubt I would see or hear anything I haven't already experienced with these guys before. I've watched porn with them, gone to strip clubs with them, seen them write their names on the sand (if you know what I mean) and watched them run around naked. We are quite a politically incorrect crowd, so I've heard all kinds of nasty, horrifying and hilarious discussions over things that may burn some ladies' ears. So unless they want to get together and do a big circle jerk at these shindigs, I don't know what would make this get together all that different from the others.

But my tits make a difference here, evidently. Despite being a shoulder to cry on, the friend to drive you home when you're too wasted, the one to make you laugh when you got dumped (and we've all done that), my chromosomes dictate that I cannot attend what is supposed to be the best party of this bachelor's life. Which I've heard it usually isn't, because I get all the details about these parties afterwards anyway, and see the pictures, too.

Now, my crew is big on tradition, and I respect that. Of course, most of these traditions are our own. As individual tribes develop their own modes of existence out in the wild, so did we in suburbia. So I really, really thought they'd buck this particular tradition and invite me to the damn parties.

And I even asked the bachelor in question why I wasn't invited. "Silly Mo, you know that girls
aren't allowed at bachelor parties (there's no basement in the alamo!)."

Well, this time, I just got all the details. Since I knew where the boys were going to be during the evening, I decided I was gonna crash the damn thing. I knew they were having dinner at a steakhouse first, then possibly heading somewhere for drinks, and ending the night at a strip place just stumbling distance from my apartment. One of those strip bars where tattoed ladies twist to Iggy Pop and have piercings. A place I'd been to before (I'm not a stranger to strip bars, as I've mentioned earlier. Hell, I've had a lap dance... but the lesbian I was with said I didn't respond so well.)

I grabbed a couple girl friends, went out on the town a bit, and when I figured the boys had sufficient time to do whatever male bonding thing that they had to do which was somehow only going to be complete if I was NOT there... I went to the strip club. And you know what? They were glad to see me. And they were pretty drunk, so faking it would have been a bit of a trick. A bunch of the guys went to their crashpads to sleep, and the rest of us returned to the host's home with a couple of the strippers in tow and continued the festivites into the next morning. Good times, good times.

You know what? If I ever get married (which I'm not actually planning on doing), I'll have a bachelorette party. The party will consist of me, the bachelorette, my sister and my girlfriends. But you know what else? I'd also invite my brother. And I'd invite all my guy friends too, because they are some of the most important people in my life. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them, and I wouldn't think about leaving them out of the best party I'm ever gonna have just because they have dicks.

Just my opinion. I still love ya, you bastids. Spuds 4ever!