While checking in at the front desk the hushed annoyance and pissed-off stares made it clear I was going to have to prove myself. I felt like the person fumbling with a stack of coupons at the front of a long grocery store line, hated by everyone behind her. A few of Josh's friends already knew me but the rest immediately asked, "Who invited her?" Having breasts at a bachelor party is a bad thing, unless you're the hired help. Even though Josh inviting me should have been enough to vet my worthiness, I had to convince these guys I wasn't a spy. I wouldn't report back to their girlfriends and wives. I didn't work for some underground feminist organization determined to infiltrate and destroy the entire bachelor-party tradition. Why I Hated His Strip-Club Bachelor Party
I ingratiated myself to some of the guys by becoming their wing woman and helping them scope out girls at the bar. I earned more fans when I convinced a bouncer not to throw us all out of a club after Josh's brother peed in the stairwell. Others gained respect for me when they realized I played poker, and well. When Josh's best man was losing money left and right at the casino—and I mean literally since he was so hammered he didn't notice it falling out of his pockets—I picked it up and kept it safe for him until he sobered up. He was so happy to see that stack of bills later on I thought he might invite me to his own bachelor party.
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Guys wandered in and out of the bathroom to pee while I took a quick shower. Sure some probably copped a look but whatever, I was piled into one of four suites with the rest of them and didn't expect any special treatment. I wasn't going to lock the door or shriek if someone saw me naked. I was basically living in a locker room for the weekend, and I was one of the players on the team. I didn't make a big deal about throwing on sweats and a tank top and diving into a bed with two passed out dudes, one sweating whiskey, the other sweating gin. Bachelorette Party Dos and Don'ts [VIDEO]