A Girl’s Best Friend…

It was the first Saturday of the year that you could leave the house without a coat, the kind of day where, if you don't have plans already, you're motivated to make some just to get out of the house. Alex’s sister had called to see what we were up to. Bridie was meeting a bunch of her gal pals in Center City for drinks al fresco, but we had other plans.

“What about Nick? Is he around?”

“He and Dan are coming with us.”

Alex had introduced Nick to Bridie ages ago, and now they had a friendship of their own. Bridie is the type of straight woman who has a lot of gay friends, and not just us and our friends, either. Bridie’s always introducing us to new gays. We joke that we’re all going to vote her grand marshal of the Gay Pride Parade one year. Don't call her a fag hag, though. We hate that term; we have plenty of gal pals ourselves. Bridie is no one's sidekick, anyway.

“Is it an engagement party or a shower?”

“An engagement party, I think. It doesn’t say shower on the invitation.”

Bridie was suspicious.

“What does it say?”

“It says ‘Join us for a celebration of Libby and Thad.”

“It’s a shower.”

There was no turning back; the four of us were on our way there at that moment. Nick and Dan had taken the train out to Mt. Airy, and we were all squeezed into Andy’s car, heading to an alleged bridal shower in Roxborough. Our friend Lola was meeting us there.

“But there are other men going. Well, others invited. I don’t think any of them could make it.”

“Are they all gay men?”

Alex thought for a moment. “Um…yeah?”

“It’s totally a shower. And you guys are the gays!” Bridie then launched into a description of inane shower activities we would have to participate in; wedding-themed word games, strange crafts involving plastic forks or toilet paper, question-and-answer exercises meant to elicit bawdy innuendo about the wedding night. Well, bawdy by the bride’s 80 year-old aunt’s standards. Bridie cheerfully assured us we would be clawing for the exits after an hour of it, if it was anything like the showers she had seen.

Alex still wasn’t sure. After Bridie hung up, the topic was debated among the men. It was noted that Libby was quite liberal and gay-friendly, as was Thad. We knew this because they both endured the collective school-girl crush we all had on Thad (he’s pretty dreamy). Libby was the last person we’d expect to treat us like, well, eunuchs. It's not that we thought we'd be shunned or uncomfortable; we had all met Libby's family at Christmas, when she and Thad were in town from Chicago. They're good people, and a lot of fun. We just didn't know what to expect. Were we really going to a hen party? Were we really going to be…the gays at the bridal shower?

Nick tried to talk Alex down. "Libby's family drinks. There will be plenty of booze." Nick always knows just what to say. Dan wondered if there might be an erotic cake.

It’s not that Alex and Andy are unfamiliar with the rituals of heterosexual marriage. We’ve been to bachelor parties, rehearsal dinners and plenty of wedding receptions. We’ve both played best man. Between us, we have five sisters, and only Bridie remains unmarried. We still feel a little removed from all the hoopla. We want to get married, but for the tax breaks and legal recognition, not a wedding cake with two grooms on top. One day we imagine driving down to City Hall and tying the knot for real, just us and some close friends and family. We’d throw a big, informal party after; dance mix on the iPod and endless booze and food. No hokey pokey, though. We might be unfairly barred from the banns of marriage, but at least it frees us from some of the more rigid traditions associated with it.

Lola was just getting out of her car when we pulled up, but her addition didn’t dilute the gay in our group. We were grateful see her; Lola’s pretty and femme, but deep down she’s really one of the guys around us. We figured she could act as a sort of mole. Lola's seen her share of girl parties, but this was a little different. It was doubtful she'd get anyone's number, and she's hardly the kind of woman who gets excited about making a bridal gown out of a cocktail napkin. Still, she has a vagina. We made her go in first.

Bridie was right. We entered a large kitchen as a dozen pairs of female eyes settled on us. The median age appeared to be well into AARP-membership requirements. Not a Y-chromosome in sight. For a moment it seemed like we might be mistaken for the caterers, or possibly the entertainment. Libby’s mom came right over, though, and greeted us warmly, making introductions to the other guests, who also welcomed us. Libby was ecstatic to see us. Thad was back in Chicago. We boys were it: the lone representatives of our gender.

It was fine. No, better than fine; we had a great time. We didn’t see any games, or at least weren’t asked to participate in them. We found ourselves in the dining room, a bit removed from the gaggle of aunts and elders we walked in on. Some women joined us, then some more, and we men confessed that this was our first bridal shower. Shower horror stories were told. Off-color humor crept in. We had found the other rebel shower-goers! Andy confused one elderly guest when she walked in on a punch line referencing a pearl necklace (jewelry was not the topic) but other than that we blended right in. We weren’t the sideshow, there were cool, smart, funny women of every age, and there was plenty of great food and drink. No penis cake, though.

When we were leaving, Libby hugged us tight. “I’m really glad you came,” she said, smiling at all of us. “I just really wanted you guys here.” Libby knew it wasn’t our typical scene, but she was sure we’d fit right in, anyway. The truth is, we’re not that out of place at a hen party after all.

Weeks later, we were standing in the reception line outside the church. Another tight Libby hug, and kisses on both our cheeks. She looked beautiful.

“I prayed for you guys,” she said. Alex cocked an eyebrow. He saves his prayers for turbulence at 30,000 feet. “One day it’ll be you guys up there.” Libby beamed as she said it, certain it would happen.

We do love our gal pals.