Stag & Hen

Last fling before the ring

The other day I got a text from one of my friends here: the boys decided to have an impromptu bachelor party and what were the girls doing? I kind of cringed. I had wanted Soldier to help me with cleaning and getting ready for our little wedding and party. On the other hand, the girls were really sweet in planning a night out to celebrate. So, I took off my crabby pants and put a smile on my face.

As I was getting ready, we went through the options of whether or not to coordinate. Of course, I was instructed to wear white, and they would wear black. That might be an American thing. One of the girls said it’s a sorority thing, but I’ve been to plenty of bachelorette parties where that’s standard. Anyway, I have maybe half of my wardrobe here so it was tricky. I ended up going kind of high fashion: a high-waist, mid-calf pencil skirt with a t-shirt that says “jaune et belle,” and some nude booties. I felt kind of ridiculous at first, but then I got pretty excited; it’s been a while since I’ve gotten all dressed up and sassy. I do enjoy getting dressed up and sassy. And I figured, so what? Who cares if people think I'm overdressed or don't understand my outfit? 

They picked me up and took me to a cute farm to table restaurant. We got a bottle of champagne, which I’m also a pretty big fan of. We had appetizers, dinner, champagne, and some good chats. Then we moved on to the bar. We only had one shot of Patron and kept the drinks flowing.

I was pretty proud of myself that I didn’t call or text Soldier at all. I knew he’d be having a good time, but I was a little concerned at how much he would drink. Then, at a relatively reasonable hour, he called me. He was slurring his words, but he was already home. He wanted to make sure I was alright, that I was going to get home okay, and was wondering when I’d be getting in. I was so touched and pleased that he called, and that he wasn’t blacked out or drinking till the next morning. He doesn't remember calling. In a weird way, I think that's almost sweeter--not having all his faculties, it was still on his mind to make sure I was taken care of.

This, friends, is a good man. I suppose he was worth the wait. Fine. He was absolutely, definitely worth the wait. 

I think I was home around midnight or 12:30 which, for a bachelorette party, wasn't horrible. Except that when I'm drunk, I take forever to do anything, especially get ready to go to bed. Soldier was already there, sleeping, quite drunk. Apparently they had an overwhelming amount of shots, and his friends were sufficiently in awe of his ability to shoot whiskey. 

I was still relatively drunk when I got in bed, and I kind of just laid there for a while. I was kind of feeling small. Even though we've been living in sin (gasp! egad!) and sharing our lives for the past month, I also knew, or maybe was trying to get through my brain, the gravity of our decision. 

I was excited, but not exactly excited. I was thinking a lot of everything that would need to be done the next day. I was more concerned about making sure the dinner and little party went well for our friends than focusing on us. 

It ended up being a really nice night out, and I was so grateful that the girls had wanted to make sure I had my party; my kind of party. There were no penis straws, dare-type games, or Team Bride shirts. My party was comprised of kind people, laughs, and the complete certainty of their attention to my enjoyment. Easy, casual, and perfect.