Last Saturday was my friend Amber’s bachelorette party. She and my brother from another mother, Rob, are getting MARRIED this Saturday. Isn’t that adorable?
Commence “AWWWWWWWW”…
Okay stop that.
We went to the Guilt Nightclub in Boston to watch Men in Motion, a male revue that is similar to what you see in Magic Mike (Which, in my opinion, was a fucked up movie. It got way too real at some points).
Anyway, I’m not much for strip clubs. My first and only experience with a strip club was at my sister-in-law’s bachelorette party. We ended up at The Palace in Saugus, downstairs from what used to be the Bahama Beach Club (an 18 under club I got stalked at when I was 16 to the point that I had to hide in the ladies room). It was a strip club called Male Encounter. And it was gross. Because Saugus.
I was drunk, but I distinctly remember dudes in neon green banana hammocks dancing on tables and they were FUCKING HAIRY. And the hair was matted up on their asses due to all the oil and sweat. It was disgusting, it smelled, and it scarred me for life.
Luckily, the Men in Motion show at the Guilt Nightclub in Boston provided a better experience.
Sure, many of the dudes looked like they belonged on Jersey Shore. Sure, while most of the girls were “WOO!!!”ing, I was laughing my ass off in the corner at the ridiculousness of it all. But it was much, much better than your average strip club experience. The guys made it fun. And I had to appreciate some of the dance moves they pulled off in their routines.
At the beginning of the night, we took a picture in front of a sign in the T station that said EXIT TO WANG, because I’m 12. We got to Guilt early and ended up seated in a corner, safely away from the stage. I thought, “Oh good,” because I’m a cheap ass and didn’t want to be pressured to tip anyone or risk touching them. I didn’t want to touch anyone, or have anyone touch me. But the Men in Motion website states that they guys “might still flirt with you.” Yeah, I researched it.
We stood up on the booth seating to watch the show from a safe distance.
We weren’t safe.
The gents do come out into the crowd. And our VIP lady was grinded on (ground on?) by some dude with tribal tattoos and a mohawk. But he was okay. He was giving attention to the bride-to-be, and that’s what the night was all about.
And then he gave her a hug, which was sweet.
A little after that I was standing in the corner when this guy in a purple Red Sox cap (Seriously, now we have purple hats?!) snuck up on me from behind the corner. I turned away and acted all squeamish, like I’m some prude. AHHH don’t touch me!!! I thought (I’m a complete germaphobe). So the dude bit the bottom of my dress and started pulling it with his teeth. Which made me freak out even more, which my girlfriends found hilarious.
He let go and disappeared around the corner. I peeked around the corner to make sure he was gone. My girlfriends continued to cackle.
And my face was like:
Then our bride-to-be was called up to the stage to sit in the hot seat. Oh Jesus. I made my way up toward the stage so I could discreetly get a few pics.
There were 4 other brides-to-be in the “hot seat” on stage. The emcee (who looked EXACTLY like Michael Westen from Burn Notice) asked us if we love a man in uniform. Commence drunk WOO!!!ing from WOO-girls.
This guy came out on the stage in a (hopefully fake) Navy uniform. I thought of how pissed my husband would be if a male stripper did a skit in a Marine uniform. Oh my God, he would be so pissed at the disrespect toward his beloved Corps. As would the rest of his Marine friends. They would probably riot over it if they saw it.
The Navy’s not that sacred, apparently. Admit it, you’re all a bunch of womanizing assholes anyway.
Then we were asked if we’re looking for a hero. More WOO!!!!ing. Navy man whipped his dress whites off, revealing Superman undies.
Which made me laugh my ass off, because the man Amber is marrying is the BIGGEST comic nerd on the planet. It made me laugh even more because earlier that evening Rob and I discussed how funny it would be if the Men in Motion did a full-on Avengers routine. (Think of it, Men in Motion! Captain America, Thor, Iron Man, Hulk, Hawkeye, and a surprise appearance from Nick Fury. It would fucking KILL).
Then the man in Superman undies proceeded to (redacted to preserve the bride’s dignity).
After that, I went to the bar and saw some girls ordering something that looked delicious. “WHAT IS THAT?” I asked loudly and obnoxiously. “It’s a Malibu Bay Breeze,” this girl replied, like it was totally obvious. I don’t know what girly drinks are, so I needed some guidance.
“I’ll have one of those,” I told the bartender. Look at me, being a girl.
“10 dollars,” he replied. Jesus Christ. #TypicalBoston
I went back to my corner with my coconutty girly drink and proceeded to die laughing with the girls over how perfect the Superman undies routine was for Amber. As I was sipping on my cocktail, my friend in the purple hat peeked around the corner again. “Oh no!!!” I said, giggling. He rawred at me, biting the air instead of my dress, and disappeared again. The girls lost it.
Another dude came over my way, and I gave him a dollar so he would get away from me. I held out the bill, and he opened his underwear. You couldn’t see any privates, because there were so many dollar bills. I dropped the bill into his undies (from a safe height) and thought, “how weird is my life?”
But then I thought, “how weird is his life?” and in my buzzed state I began wondering about him and the other dancers. What are their stories? Why do they do this? How much money do they make? What do they do to train? I saw another guy go by who looked like he had a scar from a bullet wound in his shoulder. What was his story? I wondered what it would be like to interview the Men in Motion. Is there more than meets the eye?
Then I felt bad that I hadn’t given my friend in the purple hat a tip. I have to give it to him: he made me laugh! I appreciated that more than any skin I saw that night. So when the lights came on at last call, I made sure to find him.
I found him and offered a tip. When he recognized me, he shouted something in Spanish and put his arms up in excitement. I’m assuming he said something like, “Oh look, it’s the prude!!!” Then he gave me a hug that was genuine, warm, and not creepy. It was so odd, and kind of cool.
On social media, I posted my eyebrow pic with, “Mah dress got bit.” -at the Guilt Nightclub
The next day I got this text. Because this is my life.
AHHHH!!!
Good thing my Dad is hip.
~
I was also at Rob’s bachelor party on Friday (in spirit). My husband Greg is a co-best man in the wedding, and co-hosted a Roast of Rob for his bachelor party.
Here’s a recording of the full roast on The Worst Episode Ever podcast page. Give it a listen. It’s fun, especially if you know Rob personally. My roast letter is the 4th one in, kindly read by my friend Todd.
Congratulations to Rob and Amber!!! I can’t wait to get smashed in your honor this Saturday!!!
