Last weekend, all 12 of my best friends (plus my weird second cousin, Sheila) threw me an ameezing bachelorette party—well, at least they tried. We rented a party bus, we drank pricey champagne, and we most def had penis straws and other dick knickknacks. There was just one major problem—there were no strippers. Not a one! What the eff, you guys??!
I specifically told my girlfriends “no strippers,” which is OBVIOUSLY code for “Please get at least five trashy Craigslist strippers, please, this is my last chance,” but apparently their ears were fucking broken.
There’s nothing worse than finding out your friends are really your enemies. Nothing, except a stripperless bachelorette party.
This major error came to light as we were finishing dinner at Wings World. I had just taken my sixth shot of Don Julio (thanks Sheila!) and was right in that post-dinner pre-seventh shot sweet spot when I realized I needed to feel the hairless, rock-hard abs of a male stranger on my body. So naturally, I yelled, “When are the strippers getting here?” My 12 friends just looked around in confusion. Finally Sheila broke the silence.
“Huh? You said ‘no strippers!’”
Now, I realize I did tell everyone “no strippers.” But of course I wanted strippers! No one actually says, “Strippers! Yes, please!” when asked if they want strippers. “She who wants strippers the most asks for strippers the least.”—I read that somewhere.
When my besties asked me if I wanted strippers, Channing Tatum’s “Pony” dance from Magic Mike popped into my head. You know the one—he backflips off the stage, grabs a girl from the audience, lays her down on the ground, and proceeds to continuously thrust his hips in her face. Yowza! That bod! That taut face! It was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen in my whole life, and I needed to feel that feeling again before saying “I do” in front of my whole family. But after I snapped out of my sexy daydream, all that came out of my mouth was, “Ha ha, whaaaaaat?? Nooo wayyyy! Strippers are weird.”
What kind of woman would I be if I actually expressed my desires out loud? Did you really think I was going to say, “You know what would be hot? Seeing and maybe touching a penis cocooned in a leather thong!” No thank you. I’d have to dye my white dress red—or at least add a leopard print veil! I need that kind of shit to be a surprise, like a giant birthday cake with a man inside of it.
So please ladies, take this as a lesson learned for the next bachelorette party: “No strippers” means “as many strippers as possible”. It’s basic bachelorette etiquette. Now someone Google a last-minute stripper booking service or I’m rescinding your plus-ones.
