A status update on facebook caught my eye recently , it said something along the lines of “Wow! Another tacky hens party, what’s the fascination with body parts!!! Why not a classy cocktail afternoon !!!”
I couldn’t agree more.
Thanks to facebook, the now very private and generally secretive tradition of giving the betrothed a fun farewell to single life has been opened up for others to see, dissect, stalk, pour over and yes, sorry people, to judge. And we do. There’s one thing to have a bit of fun with the girls, a laugh, a dance, even a flirt but it’s an entirely different thing to act like you are a sexed crazed maniac who goes crazy at the first sight of a male body part.
I’ve always thought the tackier the hen’s do, the tackier the person and given that I’ve never been to a hen’s do where naked men had their nether regions hanging out or on display, I think I have a pretty classy bunch of girlfriends! Perhaps we’re just boring (and I’m generalizing here) but women don’t generally look at guys and gawk at their nether regions wondering what’s underneath their boxers, we’re more likely to be attracted to the face, the overall body, the personality before we lust after the um…well, you know.
Sorry folks, but the stripper thing just doesn’t float my boat. Most of the stripper types that I’ve seen are prawns anyway (yummy body, bad head) and well, they strike me as kind of dirty and a bit germ ridden (can hear the Association of Clean and Tidy Strippers coming after me now!) but like the facebook status update above, I do wonder why on the occasion of a hen’s, some women become crazed over body parts.
I recall organizing one hens do where the hen’s request was, “a lovely dinner with my friends with cocktails, loads of Lionel Ritchie followed by a some dancing but most of all, no penisis. No penis straws, no penis apparatus, no strippers and just keep it clean, my mother in law is going to be there and I don’t want to offend her”. The entire night the bride to be was paranoid she was going to be presented with some kind of penis apparatus in front of her mother in law and she had no idea how she was going to react. The most hilarious part of the very clean and fun night was when, as we were opening gifts for the bride to be, a token gift from her mother in law (that she’d saved from another hen’s night years before) was a tiny little pair of penis earrings. Given the big deal the bride made about ensuring her mother in law wasn’t uncomfortable with any type of X rated content, the irony of this gift being from the MIL and the hysterical laughs we had for hours afterwards made the penis earrings a much funnier and entertaining story than a fireman stripper would have been.
I do think that double standards come into it with bucks nights. Whilst I don’t agree with men (single or attached) fawning over naked women, let’s face it, when they see a hot chick in everyday life, I’d say 99% of the time, they really are wondering what’s underneath the bra. It’s what makes men and women so different.
As I sat in the hairdresser this evening discussing with local Mum’s if The Biggest Loser or Excess Baggage was the better TV show (yes, we discuss the very important things in life whilst getting pretty), one of the young apprentices mentioned that her cousin was beside herself during her own hens night last weekend because her fiance’s best mate had organized his bucks night and he was ‘one of THOSE guys’ – what she meant was, the bucks wasn’t going to be a tame night at the footy followed by a few beers at the local. Is was an all out session that the buck would never forget, she knew strippers and boobs would be involved and she wanted to vomit – evidence of the night was being posted on facebook as it happened – the poor thing. Meantime, the bride to be was not enjoying herself one little bit at her own hen’s night where on a boat called “Stallions Afloat” (uh huh) she was being coaxed to undo the belt of a stripper with her teeth.
I could relate.
My hubby apparently had a bucks night that will go down in history (possibly just his own) as ‘the best ever’. It wasn’t a night, he disappeared for a week (I’m still reeling over that part!). This was apparently all pre-planned where the boys who organized the bucks ‘week’ decided that the person least likely to be uninvited to the wedding should I ever find out about what went on, was my little brother. So the boys gave my little brother the code name of Dr Poon (short for Dr Porn I suspect?) and made out that he was the person organizing the bucks day/night/week and that as a result it ‘would all be fine’ because he was in charge. I have no idea why I believed them and I don’t think I want to know all the details as it’s all history now, but I do know that it wasn’t just ordinary strippers who turned up, it was Miss Nude Australia, Miss Penthouse Pet of the Year, Miss Topless Australia and every other Miss “I’ll take my gear off if you’re paying me” type of person.
Memorable. No doubt.
Expensive – uh huh!
Whilst my own hen’s do cost $40 per head and everyone purchased their own drinks, I suspect hubby’s cost each of the boys in excess of $300…..what a waste of money! Seriously. Talk about going overboard. Whilst I’m sure it was memorable for all the boys involved (it must have been, many of them, 8 years later are still talking about it), I wonder if there will ever come a time where boys won’t be boys and they, like many of my friends, will say ‘forget the boobs,, strippers, naked bodies and let’s just have dinner a few beers and have a punt on the races”…… Not likely!