Expensive dinners, way too much booze, pretty frocks and (hopefully) some of your best girlfriends. As weddings begin to rain down, showers and bachelorettes are more common in the city than backyard barbeques.
I dread these things, but after this season’s first such affair, I have to admit they’re worth the inevitable shrinking wallet.
Somehow that much alcohol, your closest girlfriends, and watching a girl you just met transform from a shrinking violet to a hot mess on the dance floor make for a scene that resembles your first bar outings at 18 or 19. One of you goes too hard and passes out early, getting kicked out of the nightclub by a bouncer; another makes out with a random Turkish boy, ten years her junior, later asking you if he was cute while texting him; at least one married spends the night plying men for free drinks just because; your most reserved mate gets super emotional and cries in the corner; while a sociopath dances alone, gyrating furiously, on an empty floor, like everyone is watching; and at the night’s end you hop into a cab and head to your boyfriend’s house to seriously seduce him – at least you think you did, it got a bit blurry after someone pulled out that joint. This is what every girl’s night could be – but is ever more elusive with each year past thirty. Thank God weddings give us an excuse to reach back to that golden age of balls-out alcohol abuse.