I feel like I’ve been writing about weddings a lot, but I guess it’s just that time of year. I had my first experience buying bachelorette accessories for a lesbian wedding this month, as the first one I attended was my own, so I didn’t buy anything for myself. But for my best friend, I had to find the funniest stuff I could. This would have been easy if she were into penises, as they are all over the bachelorette schwag that sex stores sell.
My mom and I went to a local sex shop in Michigan while I was visiting. It was called Cirillas and had a T-shirts for sale that said “Lucky for you, I like fat girls.” Obviously it was a very feminist shop. As to not waste any time, I asked where the bachelorette party stuff was and before the woman could direct me to the right aisle, my mom decided to help out: “They’re … they’re gays.” Now, my mom is very supportive of my being a lesbian and loves my wife, but she doesn’t always know how to express that to other people. I can’t help but make fun of her in situations like these, because I was pretty sure there was no specific “lesbian bachelorette” section.
And I was correct. My mom and I searched through the penis straws, penis-clad veils, penis-shaped ice trays and general penis wares to find a pink light-up sash, some bachelorette party truth or dares that had the least to do with gender specifics, and a wind-up vagina. (It was $3! I had to.)
My best friend loves drag kings, but apparently they’ve all buried their mustaches in the back of their closets because I could not find one in the Seattle metro area for the life of me. In another city on the same night, her fiancee was attending a strip club, but that wasn’t something she, much less any of the other girls at the party, was interested in. Instead, we actually had a real live penis. (See? Can’t get away from them.) We hired a naked cleaning guy. He’s kind of like a topless maid, except he comes in, takes some shots, gets fully nude and will dust anything you’d like, fluff your pillows and fan you off if you’re feeling a little warm. In our case, he also entertained a group of women who would rather talk to him than ogle his goods, which is probably why he says he’s usually hired by gay men and they actually expect him to clean.
But besides that nice naked fella, who is working his way through school (seriously), the night was less about a body part and more about the bride-to-be. A party limo playing Nicki Minaj took us to karaoke, where a $20 bill put us ahead of the crowd with the DJ and we did a duet to Sophie B. Hawkins’ “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover.” It was probably the least sexy bachelorette party, but it was one fabulous girls’ night out.
It didn’t feel much different from the bachelorette parties I’ve been to before, where the bride was marrying a guy, except it forced everyone to be a little more creative. Someone made boobie cupcakes, the hostess sewed the bride a vaginal pin and we played pin the boobs on the babe. No matter what, bachelorette parties are always going to be about the genitals; you just have to think outside the box — er, the penis.