My friends are getting married. As if the whole watching-people-I’ve-eaten-Playdough-with-walk-down-the-aisle thing wasn’t scary enough, it’s also accompanied by all that other hoopla. The dress fittings. The engagement parties. The bridal showers. …The bachelorette parties. But if there’s one thing I’ve noticed thus far with the last, it’s that the husband-to-be’s bach party does not equal that of his soon-to-be-wife’s. Why?
Scenario 1: I am the bride-to-be. I will take a million pictures of my ring on my smart phone and send it to my girlfriends the second I am engaged. My girls will send it to their roommates from college and everyone will text back (“Love it!” “Ew!” “Not my taste!”). Then I will have an engagement party, where everyone will, once again, whisper about my ring.
After all the judgment on my sparkler, more talk goes on behind my back regarding the hot pink taffeta frock I have chosen for my MOH (this is hypothetical—I’m not going to broadcast my real projected wedding colors, lest you copycat them). Of course, alongside the tizzy of fittings comes obsessive bridal/bridal-party dieting. All of my BFFs turn into bread-deprived bee-hatches as they start to plan the bridal shower, also behind my back.
Once I’m tricked every which way and finally go to my shower, I burst into tears—from stress and being caught off guard by 50 of my closest friends while I look like crap. Oh, and all this is going on while I’m deciding how to politely not invite my long-lost cousins, should I go with tall or short centerpieces, how will I pay the photographer, wait, how will I pay for this in general…etc.
Before I know it, it’s time to celebrate one of the last few nights of me being not married. But after all the stress I’ve already endured, I just want to lie in a fluffy bed slaughtered in cellulite-reducing lotion, and have a butler feed me bacon (hypothetically, I am also on the Atkins diet). Alas, my friends drag me out to some bar, which we will probably get to by limo or party bus. I get superdrunk having just dropped 15 pounds, and I am paraded around in a penis crown, a sight which will appear in tons of NSFW Facebook photos.
Scenario 2: I am the groom-to-be. I’ve picked penne a la vodka over spaghetti bolognese. I’m not too sure what colors match hot pink, so I’m going to stay out of the whole color scheme/flowers bit too. I went on a cake tasting.
But then there’s the bachelor party, and we’re thinking Vegas because obviously my buddies and I are just as funny as Zach Galifianakis and as hot as Bradley Cooper…and my last single night before I (GULP) commit to one woman for the rest of my life should obviously be filled with getting blackout, receiving lap dances, and at least one of my friends marrying a hooker while Elvis presides over the ceremony. I will appear in a lot of NSFL (not suitable for LIFE) photos.
…Doesn’t it seem like the ladies get jilted when it comes to bachelorettes? A bride and the bridal party have a bajillion things to plan…and to pay for, which really burns everyone out emotionally and wallet-wise by the time the bachelorette rolls around. On the other side of the spectrum, the groomsmen seem to have nothing to do short of renting a tux and finding a good place to throw the bachelor party.
Men have all the freedom and the budget to go above and beyond, and it’s not fair. Money and planning constraints aside, do they also go all out because this is the one time that everyone is making the guy the center of attention instead of the bride? Or is that last single night really all that more important for men because of their commitment issues? Will bachelor and bachelorette parties ever be equal?
GIRL TALK TIME: What do you think? Do you think bachelor parties are usually more elaborate than bachelorettes? Why or why not? What have you done for your bachelorette or for someone else’s? Was it fun, or were you just so stressed out about everything else?