Last weekend Renee, Joan and I helped give a wedding shower for Sharon’s daughter, Caitlin. We decorated Renee’s gargantuan chicken coop to resemble a fancy barn meant for celebrations because, in fact, that’s exactly what she uses it for. Greenery and lemons adorned the tables and strands of lights hung from the rafters. It was beautiful. But that’s not actually what this posting is about.
My wedding shower was 37 years ago and it seems things have changed in that department. Since many couples now live together before marriage, they often have what they need or want so apparently showers are often passé. At least that’s what I’m told. Back in the day, none of my friends nor I lived with our fiancés, so we actually needed “stuff.”
Now don’t get me wrong; I’m guessing some couples today wouldn’t mind receiving a Cuisinart or a large Le Creuset casserole dish. But I’m told the bachelorette party is actually where it’s at. Getting your besties together for an unforgettable night is a bigger deal now and I get that. But still, I love me a Cuisinart.
Anyway, that got me thinking about a bachelorette party I attended a few years back. Thinking I’d spice things up a bit, I wanted to give something racy (or at least embarrassing) to the bride-to-be, along with the requisite casserole dish, of course. Lucky for me, I’d heard a new store opened up in town called VIP, Very Intimate Pleasures. Seems someone wasn’t too keen on the idea and sent a brick through a window of neon-flashing lights.
So I pulled into the parking lot next to the large Salmon-tinted building and suddenly lost my nerve. That’s when I called Sue.
“Hey, whatcha doin’?”
“I need you to meet me at VIP. I’m not going in there alone.”
“I’ll be right over.”
Now that’s a friend. Although Sue (a good Catholic girl) seemed a little too quick to accommodate, wouldn’t you say?) Anywho, she arrives minutes later and we gabbed in the parking lot until we figured we’d rather not be seen since Sue’s a teacher in town. That might be a hard one to explain (pun intended). So we rushed into the store.
As you may have guessed, we were adult store virgins expecting the place to be like the movies portray: dimly lit with seedy-looking men wearing trench coats and hats pulled low over their foreheads. Perhaps I watch too much TV?
But with that in mind, Sue and I walked in like we were entering a haunted house — slowly and cautiously, our eyes darting around the room to quickly spot the unexpected. And let me tell ya, it was mostly ALL unexpected.
Well, maybe not ALL. They had the requisite crotch-less lingerie, edible underwear and penis-shaped pasta. But that’s where my recognition abilities ended. We were in an alternate universe looking at foreign items that had meaning and purpose to the beings living there, but which completely dumbfounded Sue and moi. Obviously we were quite naive back then and dare I say, still are.
As we slowly made our way into the store, heading toward the back, I realized the items became more unrecognizable to me, and by Sue’s facial expressions, to her as well. But that’s where the 5 men in the place seemed to congregate. What I remember most is one or both of us whispering quite a few times…
Here’s a confession: I’m still not sure what I saw, which probably says a lot about me. So in the end, I bought the bride-to-be some edible undies and penis-shaped pasta. Mostly because I knew what they were.