Wedding Blog

I confess.  There are a few things about my wedding that I haven’t blogged about.  Here’s a biggie: my bachelorette party.  If this doesn’t pique your interest, I don’t know what will:

Really, I don’t know what I expected for my “hen party.” It started off normal. A lovely dinner at Pipa, some lingerie, a few naughty key chains. From there, the gaggle of girls took me to the old Limelight club… but it isn’t Limelight anymore, it’s: HUNK-O-MANIA. When I realized we were at a male strip club, my mouth went dry and I literally started to sweat. Bullets. Dripping through my wool dress. What were my supposed friends about to do to me? If I had known how dirty things would get, I probably would have fled right then and there.

We entered the club and were ushered to a big table that my MOH had arranged. A couple of bottles of much needed champagne followed. In front of us was a large stage where a man dressed in chaps was MC’ing. He called a girl (another bachelorette) to the stage where a lone chair sat. She took her seat, music started, and a very shiny man in a sailor suit began “dancing” in front of her. Within 2 seconds, he had ripped of his clothes, was writhing around her, and then thrust her face into his crotch, lifted her in the air and put his face in her crotch, then turned her over and pretended to “you-know-what” her doggie style while hanging onto her g-string that he had pulled out of her pants.

Girls, that’s the PG version. Let’s just say I wanted to crawl under the table. I looked at my MOH and mouthed, “Noooooooo.” She and all the other girls were laughing so hard that they were spewing champagne everywhere. Before I knew it, my name was called along with two other girls. At least I wasn’t alone. Three men came out — I don’t even remember what they are wearing, it was such a blur. They ripped off their clothes and danced around us. Thankfully, my dude was much less aggressive than the others. The worst thing he did was sit in my lap, grap my hands, and force me to rub them down his stubbly, vaseline-y chest, all the way down his thong. I was MORTIFIED.

But it wasn’t over.

The girls decided I needed personal lap dances. The first guy took me to a couch on the back. My MOH and another girl came with to act as bodyguards. All I can remember is that he somehow pushed me onto the couch, took off my boot, began licking my feet (over my tights — ew, gross!), and then picked me up into the air (i.e, over his head!) and shoved his face into my crotch. Really? I mean, really? Can they do that? I never felt threatened, I just felt way embarrassed. The second guy gave me a lap dance at the table and it was your more standard dance. Lots of flinging his braids in my face and coo’ing in my ear. I bought dances for a few girls to get back at them, but somehow mine (especially the first one) ended up being the raunchiest.

While all this was going on, one of my gals somehow befriended the strippers. I don’t know what she was doing, but they invited us to a party at a club afterwards. Somehow we all ended up in a private area of a club, with bottle service, hanging out with the guys that had been rubbing their greasy selves on us not long before. They were nice enough and it was funny and fun. I was drunker than a skunk at this point so if it wasn’t fun, I wouldn’t have known anyway!!!

My MOH is about to get married and now I need to plan HER bachelorette party. That night I told her, “Revenge is sweet.” Now I have to make good on that promise. Any City girls have ideas for a wild night where I can give my MOH a racy night of her own????