Beer is yummy. Beer plus 78 degree weather, plus hot baseball players is a little place I like to call heaven. Or Arizona.
I just got back from Scottsdale, where I was visiting my friend Sarah, an ESPN editor who was covering baseball spring training. For her it was work, for me it was spring break. Every afternoon, I got to sit in a sunny stadium drinking cold beer. On more than one occasion, I thought: Life doesn't get any better than this. And then I would feel a little guilty, because I knew Fred was in his office back in Atlanta chained to his desk. Is it OK to have that much fun hundreds of miles away from your significant other? I vote YES. (Unless I'm the one chained to a desk and he's partying it up somewhere. Then, NO.
But there is one time where I'm going to have to let Fred fly free while I stay at the nest, and that's his bachelor party. His friends are cooking up something big in Mexico, and every time they mention it I bite my tongue, reminding myself it's only a weekend. But I know what that weekend will consist of— lots of drinking and lots of naked women (read: strippers).
Honestly, it turns my stomach. I know it's just a dumb boys' tradition and I know that Fred would never do anything stupid (Correction: he wouldn't do anything stupid involving a naked woman. He does plenty of other stupid things.) But there's always that little niggling insecure part of me that says: But what if he did??
I hear those stories of women breaking off the engagement because of what their significant others have done at bachelor parties. And rest assured that I would do the same thing, but I'd rather not even have to worry about it.
I would just nix the whole idea of bachelor/bachelorette parties altogether, except I already know where I'm going for mine— Arizona. I just hope I can convince the baseball players to strip…