Last weekend, I headed off on a hen’s party that spanned two nights, 7 clubs, karaoke, cocktail making, many, many drinks, a few rockstar naps, and the quintessential hen’s party addition: lewd games.
Think penis play dough sculpting, assuming sex positions at the sound of a whistle, hugging the shortest guy in the room and yelling “that was nice”. Yeah, those kind of games.
Not being the shy type myself, I’m not too awkward about having to stir my drink with a plastic penis mixer. Or downing a bomb slapped in with a dildo.
What is it about hen and stag parties which mean all sense of decorum gets thrown out of the window, giving us permission to act as shamelessly flirtatious tarts? And if we have fun drawing attention to ourselves while out (by outrageously demanding that members of the opposite sex buy our friends drinks, give them a kiss, or take their tops off so we can take photos) on a hens night, why do we feel the need to limit ourselves on a normal night out? Surely having fun should be the name of the game any time 46 cocktails are involved in a three hour session?
Of course what we’re really saying to the members of the opposite sex is “you can look at us, check us out in our ridiculously cute hens party outfits, and flirt outrageously with us…but you can’t touch, oh no!” And we like that. We enjoy being doted on, and paid attention to, and flirted with. It makes us feel attractive, and young, and worthwhile.
And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. Everybody likes to have their ego stroked once in a while.
But maybe the real reason we don’t let ourselves act like crazed loons day to day is that it sits a little too close to the bone. How would we ever reign ourselves back in if we didn’t have to keep our rowdy selves under control now and then?