I was twenty-two when I attended my first bachelorette party, and I remember hesitating to mention the ‘bachelorette’ part of the party to my mom. Yes, I was twenty-two and could obviously do whatever I wanted, it’s not as if my mom was going to tell me that I wasn’t “allowed” to go – but.she’s going to imagine me drinking out of a penis straw, isn’t she? I thought to myself. She’s going to imagine us sitting around some Channing-Tatum-style-strip-club while dudes take their clothes off and my friends and I throw money at them.
I don’t know if she actually thought that. I don’t know what she thought, because I remember all she said was “Have fun!” while I walked out the door secretly worrying that my friends were going to surprise everyone by dragging us to some Channing-Tatum-style-strip-club.
It’s not that I don’t like Channing-Tatum-style-strip-clubs, it’s just… you know. I’d rather go to like, a spa or something.