Letters to the Editor
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welcome rain makes no sense
I responded and then went through a few of the posts and found this, uh, gem. welcome rain seems to think all who read on Salon have exactly the same opinion. WE all think alike on Salon, isn't that interesting:
"Here's a foreign concept for Salon's readership...
...the bachelor party is about the groom-to-be and his friends, not about the opinions of some random woman.
God forbid any woman should ever be told something isn't her business, right?"
Calling you on your sh** man, since I posted almost exactly the same thought without seeing yours. Thanks for the "foreign concept" idea, clever and very original..." right?".
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Oh, and one other thing
There was actually a bachelorette party taking place in the booth next to ours at the strip-club (a place with only female dancers). Yup. I actually spent a few minutes talking to the matron of honor about the hilarity of our respective situations. The bride-to-be was marrying a dude, so... The situation with females being at strip-clubs might be more complex than you realize.
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Wha?
>Don't worry that the macho girl will be making fun of you. Of course she will. But at the same time, all the guys will be looking down on her, so it all evens out.<
The LW doesn't know _any_ of that for sure. And given she's seeing this whole thing through her poor-me-wifey insecurities, she's not exactly a reliable narrator. Gee, some women have a real problem with women who refuse to believe all their friends should only be girlfriends.
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@ six
Welcome rain probably got confused and thought he was posting at Broadsheet. I think he is one of our trolls there who usually posts anonymously, screaming hysterically about misandry.
I will post this anonymously also, since calling someone a troll is a bit trollish. However, he seems to hate women and thus deserves some trollery.
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going to the boys' party
What a lot of angst and how-things-should-be going on here.
It all really surprises me.
A few years ago, an old friend of mine invited me to the wedding of him and this great young woman he'd met a while before. We'll call them Dan and Susan. I'd only met her once, but she was such a great person and a happy improvement over the drama queen he'd been with before that I was utterly thrilled to attend. Everyone's families lived in different places, his in the West, so they flew to Las Vegas to have a kitschy (but very sentimental, everyone cried) wedding.
Two bach parties were planned. Dan was going out bowling and to a Vegas strip club. Susan was having an over-the-top tea party.
Well, I'd met Susan and, as I said, she couldn't be greater. But I really didn't know any of the women at the wedding--I knew Dan from a course we'd taken together years ago, after which we'd kept in touch--and tea parties, well. Fun if you're gossiping with a lot of people you actually know. But Dan's my old pal and I've only ever been in a strip club once, for five minutes in the French Quarter. And bowling!
I wasn't the only woman there. An ex of Dan's with whom he'd made up after they both grew up also chose the boys' party. No boys chose the girls' party, though they'd've been welcome--even the one gay guy at the wedding decided to go on an anthropological excursion and see his first (!) nekkid lady.
Dan and his friends weren't Neanderthals. The strippers at this club, especially a couple of them, were wry, pleasant and engaging. There was some drinking of VERY expensive watered-down drinks (nearly impossible to get drunk on, so much water!), some joking around--none of it sexist with our modern boys, by the way--and the gay boy let a very personable young lady take him upstairs for a private lap dance.
"I wouldn't have thought a woman could get me excited," he reported to the interested group. "But when she was right in my lap, it wasn't bad. --Not like a GUY, but not bad."
Me, I didn't go upstairs for a private dance, but I did give a joke-cracking young lady a dollar and found out what it was like to have two big warm pillows briefly in my face. (Pretty funny! But not like being with a cute GUY--I agreed with the gay boy.)
Friends is friends, and among people who aren't tied to macho or super-feminine strictures, friends remain friends. I was there to see my friend enjoy what his bride cheerfully promised him would be his ONE time at a strip club (at least, without her!), have an anthropological experience, and wish him well on his great future. I wasn't there to get slutty with my friend or his male friends. I also enjoyed chatting with and getting to know his other female friend who came along, as well as getting to know Dan's male friends a little better (but not like THAT).
In the absence of evidence to the contrary, I assume that's all the groom's best friend wants. That's what friends and best friends do, if they're comfortable with it.
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Groom's call
I would only feel resentment if this obsolves the groom's female friend from being forced to attend all the painful women's events, like a high tea (Cary, the links don't let you know how painful it really is...) or a shower held by the grandmother and all the aunts.
If she get's to skate by only attending the bachelor party, that would be real injustice.
In truth, I don't think you need to worry, it's the groom's call if he wants her there. Who knows, maybe the wife-to-be thinks the girl friend will act a de facto chaperone.
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Gloom, All is Gloom
I was going to go to a Labor Day BBQ this weekend, but after reading Cary's demolition of meaningless social rituals, I guess I'll just hide in the basement instead. For the REST OF MY LIFE.
Sweet zombie jesus.
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Madam, the premise of your complaint might be incorrect
Although I tend to share Cary's gloomy view of social rituals, particularly of bachelor parties, I'm afraid everyone's missing the very bright side to all of this. The lady attending the party is clearly the chaperone. The woman who has most at risk at this event is the guest of honor's fiancee. If she recognizes that the woman in question is the groom's best friend, and if she gives her blessing to the woman's invite, I can only see good in all of this.
At some point during the evening, I bet the groom and his best friend spend five solid minutes talking about how wonderful the bride-to-be is before the groom proceeds to drink himself to oblivion.
I'm going to opt for the happier cliche.