Loading tweets...Mistakes were made. Bridges were burned. Things were seen that…cannot be unseen.
The horror.
I would like to clarify that in world that exists outside of the three-panel realm you see before you, I have absolutely no experience with strippers, houses of ill repute, etc. Where would you even begin with such a thing? Is that in the phone book? What kind of salacious phone book are you reading?
Someday, I would like to have a bachelor party in an old-timey wilderness lodge. There will be vast quantities of mead. All beverages must be consumed from steins. Drinking songs will be strongly encouraged. Toasts on the hour. I think that these desires stem from the core of what the bachelor party represents: dude times. Serious sausage fest. It’s a potent dose of manly man times before the balancing of yin and yang that is marriage. And it’s about camaraderie, because even though we all know friendships don’t (or shouldn’t) end post-marriage, the whole wedding thing is designating your new best friend. In a way, I sometimes think it’s more for the friends of the groom than the groom himself. One last “we’ll still be here buddy” pact before the bells are ringing.
The whole stripper thing doesn’t fit that in my estimation. That’d be more of a…yucky…yuck times…celebration?
To quote a salarian bar patron: “I don’t understand. Humans celebrate wedding contracts by tempting infidelity? That makes no sense!”
I think that quote was nerdy enough to confirm my stripper inexperience.