Bachelor parties, the ultimate excuse for a bunch of guys to get together and go on an absolute bender. Nearly every bachelor party, that has ever existed, has some kind of story(s) that came out of it in infamy. The stereotypical scenarios are well known, and have been popularized by movies like The Hangover. Things get interesting when the stereotypes are broken, and new paths are forged. This is one of those stories.
We find ourselves in Atlantic City, June of 2018. There is a buzz in the air, the excitement palpable, as a group of 10 young men gather for the first time in preparation for a weekend of debauchery. It was the first time meeting for some of our heroes, but they quickly gelled together into a cohesive unit. The mission was simple, drink copious amounts of alcohol and make questionable choices; I mean like truly irresponsible behavior.
The first night came and went with a blur, vague memories of laughs shared carried through conversation the next morning. Worry began to spread throughout the group, hangovers were settling in and the ability to rally was beginning to be questioned. We knew there was only one thing that could be done, find a watering hole and begin slamming beers once more. A bar was found, and drinks were ordered, all would soon return to normal fashion.
The buzz returned, but not completely, there was an unspoken lull circling the group. As the lull was reaching a fever pitch a laugh burst out from one of their own. Shortly after another laugh, then another and another until we were all roaring at what had been done. One of our own took it upon himself to snag another’s phone and take the liberty to respond to a recent Tinder match…
Simple, yet elegant. Crude, yet genius. It was everything we needed to revitalize our spirits into party mode. The group carried on and proceeded to achieve a solid day drunk, across the board. To this day I’m not sure what made me throw my hat into the ring, but I’m glad that I did.
A duel of beauty, and sheer despicable depravity, erupted between myself and the original writer after this. The battle was not against each other, oh no, but rather against the taboos of our surrounding society….and the poor poor girls that were facing the stupid shit we were sending them. The messages continued, turn for turn, growing in horrifying detail with each passing push of the send button. I knew I had to plant my flag, assert my dominance, make my buddies shit themselves from laughing. I mustered up every creative muscle in my body, at least the parts that weren’t drowning in beer and whiskey at that point. Everything became clear, and somehow I was able to construct my masterpiece of the evening.
I’m not even sure I’ll ever write a blog as perfect as that opening line (she never answered…but I hold out hope that she’s just trying to find a way to reply with an even better line). It’s a simple take away from a bachelor party, way out of the norms you hear about like hookers and blow. I’ve been involved in my fair share of crazy parties, and stupid bender type weekends, but it’s the simple things that stick with us even from those memories. It’s being surrounded by good friends, laughing your asses off, cementing a new joke that only those in that room at that moment will ever understand.
So here is my advice to you, guy or gal, whoever is spending a bachelor/ette party with a group of friends. Take the best looking, single person’s phone and go fucking bananas on Tinder; it truly is an awesome experience to try and come up with the craziest things to say and top your friends’ messages.