My first bachelor party

I was 20 when I moved out from my parents; I sublet a room in a 7 1/2, and lived with 2 engineering students for 8 months, before finding my own place. Those boys witnessed my flailing attempts at self-sufficiency, and taught me valuable life lessons like how doing dishes on the regular prevents bug infestations, and separating whites from colors is a worthwhile effort. They adopted me as their kid sister, and over the years we’ve remained close friends, despite taking turns dropping off the map for 2-6 months yearly.

Fast forward 10 years: Roomie1 is getting married next week, and Roomie2 has a newborn with his wife of 6 years. Despite how grown-up that sounds, when I look at them both, I still see the boys who thought this video was the funniest thing ever:

Bachelor party!

I was delighted to be invited to Roomie1’s bachelor party. Unsurprisingly, I was the only girl there, and the only non-engineer. Half of the dudes were unknown to me, and regarded my presence with suspicion. To clear any doubts, I promised them that I would act just like one of the guys, and under no circumstances would I ruin the vibe of the night by acting girly.

2 beers later, I caught one of those engineering dudes grinning as he listened to me discuss lentil soup recipes with Roomie2.

It turns out that lentil soup is not part of the list of acceptable topics for bachelor parties. Ooops?

Marriage advice at a cigar lounge

Following libations at a few pubs, the party moved to a cigar lounge, so that we could all be ballers for a couple of hours. My asthma prevented me from participating, but by sitting underneath a fan, I was able to enjoy my friends’ second-hand smoke.

My guys puffed at their cigars very earnestly, and conversation ranged from silly to serious. I was distracted by the hot guy at the next table who’d glance over at me every few minutes, and smile charmingly. Right as I was beginning to feel light-headed from all the smoke, Hottie walked up to our table, and congratulated Roomie1 on his impending nuptials, and offered him some unsolicited advice, from “one married man, to another. Remember, your woman is getting married. You aren’t. Trust me, I know.” Then he smiled at me. How flattering.

One of the guests wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly, and asked Hottie to repeat what he’d said. Hottie, spotting the band on Guest’s ring finger, shook his hand, “Your wife is married!” Guest, shook his head, perplexed, “Yes, I know: I was there”. Hottie, as though explaining something self-evident, repeated his advice, “Well remember, you aren’t married”. Guest, still confused, explained that he too had been present at his wedding, and therefore believed himself to be married. So cute!

Vanilla goes to the rippers

Inevitably, the night ended at a strip club – one of the classier ones in Mtl, mind. We got ourselves a big booth, with an excellent view of the stage. I was content to watch the dancers pull some athletic airborne moves on stage; I was almost nonchalant as the strippers performed lap dances for the guys at my booth – afterall, I had promised to act just like one of the guys!

During one particularly talented girl’s performance on stage, a guy walked in to my range of vision, blocking my view. I waited for him to walk away, but he just stood there blankly. Irritated, because I was missing some cool upside-down acrobatics, I politely yelled at him to, “please move, sir!” which so startled the stripper dancing at our booth, that she burst out laughing, and confided in me that I’d made her night, since she’d never heard a girl yell that before. I felt pretty urban and sophisticated in that moment.

Alas, my sophistication was short lived. The guys decided their evening’s entertainment wouldn’t be complete without surprising me with a lap-dance so that they could observe my awkward reaction. I did not disappoint them, achieving a Bambi-in-the-headlights look. Vanilla, for the win!

Cliffs notes

Lentils: bad. Marriage: an unclear concept for some. Cigar lounges: stinky. Lap-dances by strippers: Bambi no like. Bachelor parties: I am not one of the boys – imma stick to bachelorette parties.

Roomie1 & Roomie2: my bros. I love you both!





    1. Bahahaha!!! I’ll submit it to the Board (Nene and Coach from my boxing gym) for review.

      I couldn’t believe I had waxed rhapsodic about lentil soup for so long. I was at the stage of comparing and contrasting recipes…


  1. Thanks for the badger song. I wonder if that so-called Hottie is worth the ring on his finger. You acted like one of the boys and should deserve a medal for that. Keep on blogging in a free world – The False Prophet

    Liked by 1 person

    1. The Badger song deserves serious airplay – kids these days don’t know what true music is!

      That Hottie episode upset me. That was the one part of the evening where I didn’t act like one of the guys: I sought out Roomie2, sat next to him, and told him what had just happened (he’d been to far to hear it all). And like so many times throughout our friendship, I felt his big brother protective mantle fall about me. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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