My bachelor party was this weekend. As I type this late Monday morning into early Monday afternoon, my entire body is exhausted, but I wouldn’t change a thing. It was a great weekend, for a number of reasons.
My bachelor party did not include any of the following: strippers, midgets, farm animals, Las Vegas, Atlantic City, tigers in the bathroom, missing teeth (although I did spend four hours and 45 minutes in the dentist’s chair just prior to the start of the festivities Friday), hookers, lap dances, lubricants, road trips, gambling, strip clubs, blow-up dolls, law enforcement, prison, missing friends, and probably several other things stored in parts of my brain that haven’t been reached by the caffeine in my Dunkin Donuts iced coffee yet.
Some people may read this and think the festivities were tame and lame. As I said, I wouldn’t have changed a thing. For me, this weekend was all about spending time with my friends, many of whom beat me to the altar and are already well into raising beautiful families. What can I say? I was always a procrastinator. But when we reach this stage of our lives, it’s so difficult to get everyone together in the same restaurant, bar, or other location, and being able to spend time with older and newer friends was fantastic.
The last part of the festivities was a return to a place where I used to be bar furniture: Bar None. I actually only had two beers the entire time I was there, but I would be a poor writer if I left out the fact that those beers were entire pitchers of Guinness. I saw so many people I haven’t seen in years, and the time gap didn’t matter: We picked up right where we left off, and I was truly touched by the turnout.
Plus, as much as I hate to admit it, I’m 42: I love beer just as much as I did in my 20s, and I can still throw them back with the best of them, but back-to-back nights are really, really tough.
As for the absence of, shall we say, entertainment: I’m not morally opposed to strippers, strip bars, etc., and I don’t look down on anyone who’s into that stuff or think any differently of them, but it just never did anything for me. When I was single, I found the experience more frustrating than anything, because I found it to be pointless and a complete waste of money, and I felt like rather than relieving the loneliness and boredom of being single, all it did was highlight it and make it worse. So the exclusion of that stuff from this past weekend was 100% fine with me, and I’m not just saying this to score brownie points.
At this stage of my life, being able to share the whole weekend or parts of the weekend with good friends from all of the other stages of my life was a far more valuable, rewarding and fun experience than being tied to a pole in a strip club with my own belt (which did happen to me years ago and was pretty damn funny, actually, but would have been out-of-place this weekend).
And dealing with our three cats is enough wildlife exposure for me: I’m happy I don’t have to figure out a way to return Mike Tyson’s tiger.