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Apologies to the groom. This is in no way meant to steal your thunder or suck the life out of your big weekend. You’ve always been a good friend, and I look forward to strengthening our friendship over the weekend. But fuuuuuuck, dude.
Here I sit on the precipice of my first of two bachelor parties in 2017. Up until this week, I’ve done a respectable job blocking out the reality of a 2-day, 3-night excursion to the Texas Coast; a roughly 3-hour drive that, all things considered, I shouldn’t be dreading as much as I am. I’m not even leaving the state. Do you know how rare that is for a bachelor party?
Well, I am aware. But somehow, it’s worse.
As a fighter staring down 33, I’m well aware of the realities of my current situation. This body has seen a lot of mileage in the ring. Maybe too many. There was that one trip to Vegas that put me on my back after only one night. I tried to keep fighting and power through the damage, but everyone knew I was finished. Live on to fight another day, they said. They were right. And then there were the all out brawls with the city of New Orleans that aged me mentally and physically. You’d think I’d learn that you can’t stand in front of that town and trade punches, but I have a flare for the dramatic. Consummate showman.
And now here we are. Older, wiser, and washed.
The round of golf that would normally be the highlight of a trip like this for me must be approached with an abundance of caution. You know what happens when a bachelor party kicks things off with an early morning round on a Friday? People get hurt. You lose your guys, and you don’t even realize it’s happening. They thought Stone Cold’ing those beers on the tee box would be pretty hilarious, didn’t they? Really set the tone for the weekend, right? Yeah, we’ll check on them in a few hours and see how that worked out. Dead before dinner. Poor bastards never stood a chance.
Even the guys who make it out seemingly unscathed still bare the scars of the bachelor party sun which burns brighter with each vodka soda. As you stand in your bathroom waiting on the steam from the shower to mitigate the damage done by a mailed-in packing job, you’ll look at yourself in the mirror and wonder why you waited until the 16th hole to apply the Banana Boat Sport that’s been in your golf bag for a decade.
And when the time comes to remove that Peter Millar from the shower rod, you’ll gently place it over each shoulder while you stare in the full-length mirror at the man you’ve become. The man who’s telling himself that everyone looks better with a little color. The guy who shouldn’t have worn a visor to play golf. The dude who knows that skipping dinner to catch a little more sleep would be in everyone’s interest, but he didn’t go on this trip to be a footnote.
And it’s exactly that mentality that all who are lucky enough to attend will feign, because we know events like these are few and far between. As your late-twenties steamroll into the dreaded thirties, there are only so many weekends like this remaining on the schedule. A quick inventory suggests that I have, maybe, two or three potential bachelor parties remaining. Not bad, but that thought will be in the back of my mind as I slip on the driving loafers to give this another go.
Yes, I’m dreading the hell out of it. I almost dry-heaved when I had to remind my boss that I’d be out Friday. But my fishing shirt will remain unbuttoned throughout the entire weekend, and I will get some sun on this ol’ Powder-lookin’-ass face. That’s what bachelor parties are for..
Image via Shutterstock
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Dave
Lawyer. Writer. Dude doing business. I'm the meatloaf guy from tv.
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Last bachelor party I went to was out in San Diego. Went to a strip club before the bar crawl. I ended up getting pulled into the back room to watch over my friend who was getting married because his wife to be asked me to watch out for him. As I was making sure everything was cool, I got a lap dance from a beautiful girl who seemed wicked wholesome and I ended up trying to talk her out of being a stripper and going to Yosemite with me lol (I was sober) then the bar crawl happened and we took some powdered drug substance that we were told was Molly but it felt more like Meth because I was disbanded from the group and ended up sleeping on Pacific Beach a half hour away with someone’s sunglasses on my face. I failed my mission of watching my friend (the groom) because I couldn’t even watch myself. I showed up to the wedding the next day looking like a complete bag of dicks and got put on the spot by his fiancée’s grandmother. Cool story, Devin. Go fuck yourself.
What kind of psycho has the bachelor party the night before the wedding?
Poor people, Furd. Poor people.
Ol’ Gene never met a bachelor party he didn’t love.
Preaching to the choir here, brother. I’ve been dreading my own bachelor party ever since a simple lake weekend with a few too many whiskeys left me mentally, physically, and financially disabled for several days. Pathetic, I know, but it’s the truth.
What’s everyone’s thoughts on the future groom being the most sober/responsible person at his own bachelor party?
PS- I didn’t have you a day older than 29, what facial moisturizer do you use?
Neutrogena with the SPF 15. Thanks.
Sober at your own bachelor party? Why even have one? If your groomsmen are any friends at all, they’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.
Just had my bachelor party in Vegas last month. Barely made it out alive with all the booze and drugs (I didn’t participate). Went out all day until 3-4 am but never blacked.
RE- not a bad way to do it.
Recently received the “This is so-and-so and you’re invited to Groom’s bachelor party in Vegas. Please tell me which of these weekends works best for you as I’m currently working on a room block” email. I’m already terrified and it’s three months out.
Ever done Vegas bachelor party? Imagine pledging, but you don’t have the reward of initiation at the end. Good luck brother
This is not my first rodeo, hence the feeling of impending doom. I’m at the point in life where I fly out Friday evening, still land a respectable hour due to time change, rage until 2:00 am on Sunday, catch the 8:00 am flight back to Houston, and take vacation on Monday for additional recovery as opposed to the prior Friday for additional partying.
Veteran move. My only Vegas experience had me back in Houston at 10pm and in the cubical at 8am, I still wonder if my life right now is some sort of afterlife since I died at my desk that day
You must be in hell if you’re still working in the afterlife.
Went on a bachelor party out into the woods with some scotch and cigars and it was a good ass time. Didn’t get too drunk, went hiking and enjoyed the outdoors. That’s the method.
You know, Jesus, you’re a pretty okay dude.
Coming from you, this is the greatest day of my life
Went to your house this past Sunday for the first time in over a decade with the girl I’ve been seeing. I think she’s changing for the better. Saw you hanging up on the wall there, it looked painful as hell…no pun intended
Fucking right. Crucifixion: 1/10, would not recommend. Did it for your sins though, my boy. I bless you and the new female. Peace be with you.
Hell yeah! Thanks, Jesus. Love you, man….in a totally platonic, non-gay kind of way. I read your book, I know what’s good.
Changing me*
Sounds like a hell of a time to me
hoping to do something exactly like that for my bachelorette party one day. however, it’s next to impossible to find a female friend who legitimately enjoys the outdoors enough to sleep in a tent, so it will probably just be me and my sister. pathetic.
Hit home, hard. I’m on the tail end of a work trip, same age, and have drank more this week than I have in a long time. I’ve got one more night, and I swear it might kill me.
The spring-break-level of drinking done during my company’s national sales meeting is something that genuinely gives me the scaries.
Got a bachelor party coming up this fall in NOLA. I don’t know anyone but the groom. It’ll either be really fun or really awful.
Add on an airboat swamp tour. You can use it as a pregame or recovery, because you can bring your own drinks. Don’t forget the sunscreen. You’re welcome.
Last bachelor party I went to in New Orleans I had to pull over in Lafayette on the Sunday drive home to lay down in my truck for an hour because I could not physically sit up and drive anymore. I also couldn’t take vacation the following Monday because it was at the tail end of busy season (I no longer work in public accounting, thank God). I could barely hold a pen that Monday because I was still shaking so bad. New Orleans will test your mettle, to say the least.
With each successive blowout as I get older, I both look forward to and fear them more, knowing they will be fewer and fewer, but will leave me with less and less left in the tank. I wouldn’t say youth is fully wasted on the young, but it surely doesn’t hang around long enough.
How does everyone handle the cost for the bachelor? I attended my first last year and am looking at 4-5 this year.
Last one I went to we covered the cost of everything for him. Do you guys do the same or what?
As long as it isn’t overly extravagant, bachelor doesn’t pay for anything. Flights, hotel room/house rental, golf, strippers, alcohol, etc are all paid for by the others. So if it’s 8 including the bachelor, divide up costs amongst the other 7 guys.
Got a bachelor party in Florida soon. My skin hasn’t seen the sun in months. I’m gonna get so fucking sunburned.