MADELEINE: Mitch leaves for Vegas tomorrow for his bachelor party. Of course I trust him, but I don’t understand why our marriage needs to be celebrated in the City of Sin. What’s wrong with a trip to Disney World or the Amish country?
To make myself feel better, I sent an email to his best man, Uriel, with some bachelor party guidelines. Yeah. I’m now THAT girl. I’ve put myself out there as the crazy fiancée who needs to control absolutely everything.
It went something like this:
I have no intention of ruining your big plans (LIE), but I do need to set a few guidelines. Drinking, gambling and golfing are all fine with me. And the Vegas Public Library is a nice stop. But if there must be a strip club involved, and I would be much happier if that didn’t happen, we need to have some rules.
1) No touching of any kind between Mitch and strippers and mainly NO LAP DANCES for Mitch. This is a deal breaker as far as I’m concerned. The rest of you can do what you want, but be aware that STDs travel through clothing.
2) And I’m sure this won’t happen, but just in case – there are to be no strippers (or hookers, or slutty girls who don’t actually charge money) invited to your rooms to celebrate his bachelor party. Those situations get ugly.
I promise to be hands off from here on out. I would say don’t think I’m crazy, but I know that ship has already sailed.
…I would never allow Mitch to do anything crazy that would get him or me in trouble. I swear to you and to God that he and I will be on our best behavior, drunk but behaving.
What you say goes, and I still want to attend your wedding.