Just Skip Your Bridal Shower

Sometime last year, someone had the regrettable idea of inviting me to a Bridal Shower -my first since a midwife slapped my little brown ass. Of course now it’s grown bigger…, and from the looks of things…, darker .., ok.., mutation story for another day.

But yes, someone was crazy enough to invite me for a bridal shower. I say crazy because even the whole idea of weddings doesn’t in the least appeal to me. However, I was interested to know what happens in this all-girl affair. I knew for a fact there wouldn’t be any booze or, how I hoped, male-strippers hen-night style because the bride-to-be was a recently deflowered, staunch Catholic who lived by the book.

So it was that I set off for said Bridal Shower, not forgetting of course to buy a little gift for the bride-to-be. I get there,  introduce myself, pour a cup of tea with some cookies and settle into the arrangement of seats.

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