There are two main reasons why I’m not having a bachelorette party. The first (and most important): most of my close friends who aren’t my cat (ALL TWO OF THEM!) don’t live anywhere near me. The second: I just… don’t care for what’s become known in America as “the bachelorette party.”

I’m sure it will come as a shock to absolutely no one, that I’m not really into the chick-flick version of the bachelorette party. You know, the one. Where girls who knew each other in college congregate in some cheesy Vegas location, wearing pink boas and drinking out of penis straws. BECAUSE ZOMFG! Scandalous!

I dunno. I just think that when you get to be my age (33), when you’re not old, per se, but you’re over that period in your life when getting so drunk you don’t remember what you did the night before seemed like a good idea, there’s no real point to celebrating your bachelorette-hood. Been there, done that, yanno? And, quite honestly, I’m looking forward to leaving those fucked up nights behind me.

Plus, I hate tchotchkes. Is there a worse gift than that which usually goes with a bachelorette party?

No.

Alas, just because I don’t like “bachelorette” parties, doesn’t mean I don’t like parties, in general. And your own or your friend’s upcoming nuptials is certainly a reason to celebrate… just not with stupid party favors. And so, if my two friends (who are not my cat) and I can ever make our schedules work, we may meet up before my wedding. We may have a get-together. But it will not be a bachelorette party. I think grown-ups just call it dinner.

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