… You beg off on a night of drinking and bar hopping so that you can relax on your couch.
This past Saturday I was invited to a combined bachelor/bachelorette party. It turned out to be about 95% bachelorette and 5% bachelor. It was sort of an all day affair, and I managed some of it, but after 5 hours I was kaput.
I just can’t “party” like that anymore. And by party I mean drink non-stop.
I participated in the pub lawn bowling portion, and then accompanied the group back to their hotel for more drinking and sammiches.
But that was all I could handle.
I mean, I really like the couple who are getting married, but they were really the only people I knew at the party.
I was quite the outsider.
Plus, I don’t really drink anymore. This means I consider two beers to be quite a lot of alcohol for me. By 3:30 pm I’d had reached my limit and then decided to coast.
While everyone else kept drinking… And drinking… And drinking…
Being the lone, sober, “creepy old man” in a sea of loud, tipsy 20-something girls isn’t as much fun as it might sound.
Even if there was a point in the evening when they were comparing bust-sizes and shouting out their respective measurements.
Many were 34-B, as it turns out.
I swear we were one round of tequila shots away from a bra-n-panty pillow fight.
So when 7 pm rolled around and they were setting off on the pub crawl portion of the evening, I decided to take my leave.
The rest of my evening was spent watching HGTV and eating cold pizza.
Man am I getting old!