Mission: impossible means throwing a clean bachelor party


July 31, 2001

There are several things in this world that should simply never, ever get mixed together. Oil and water. Bulls and china shops. George Bush and multi-syllabic words.

Then there is the most ill-conceived combination of all: prudes and bachelor parties. And when that bachelor party is FOR a prude ... good lord, help us each and everyone.

I have now played a part in organizing three -- count 'em, three -- bachelor parties that, due to the concerns of the soon-to-be-groom, were nontraditional. In other words, there was no alcohol, no exposed female protuberances and no carnality whatsoever.

Let me emphasize that there is nothing wrong with wanting to avoid alcohol, breasts and commandment-breaking. But such desires (or, better put, a lack of such desires) means that, when it comes to bachelor party planning, you're pretty much starting from scratch.

The first prude bachelor party I ever threw was for my friend Matt, who was marrying my friend, Jaunice. They were prospective Mormons at the time, as was I, and many in attendance at the party were practicing Mormons, which meant that we had to be very careful (because Jaunice would have came unglued had anything happened beyond PG-13, and the Mormons in attendance surely would have tattled). Therefore, I arranged not a bachelor party, but a funeral.

My then-girlfriend's sister made a nearly life-sized coffin out of several bicycle boxes. I got a cake decorated with black roses and another coffin, this one a balsa wood creation made by a friend. And we sat around, wore black and eulogized Matt as if his nuptials were signifying the end of his life.

Which is pretty much what ended up happening. (Ha ha! Just kidding, Jaunice! Really! I swear! Please don't hurt me!)

We ended the party by doing something somewhat beyond the PG-13 rating, however, which indeed ended up getting us in all sorts of trouble: We had Matt beat a piņata that looked vaguely like Jaunice. A piņata that I had filled with stuff. Like candy. And condoms. And miniature tubes of lubricant. And laxatives. (If you ever want to feel like a major pervert, go to Longs and buy all this stuff at once, just like I did.)

Surprisingly, it ended up being a pretty decent party, as far as prudish bachelor parties go. The same can't be said for the one I threw for my best friend, Kelly.

When this happened, Kelly and I were both full-on Mormons, as was his wife-to-be. I wasn't even the best man, but Kelly's brother was going to flake on the party, so I threw one together in about 5 days' time. I had no ideas, no time (I was working two jobs at that point) and no money (I was working two jobs at that point for a reason), which meant that I stayed up late every night putting together a -- sit down, grandma -- a Microsoft PowerPoint presentation to be the highlight of the party.

This meant that Kelly's bachelor party officially had clinched the status of Dorkiest Bachelor Party Ever before it even started.

Don't get me wrong; it was a great PowerPoint presentation. It had pictures and inside jokes and music and EVERYTHING. It would have probably landed me a big account if I had been, say, trying to sell Kelly to some company that likes buying short Mormon men. But for a bachelor party, it blew chunks.

However, I am glad to report that the third nontraditional bachelor party I was involved in was much more successful. This last weekend, my friend moe. (that's how he spells his name -- lowercase "m" and a period -- what do you expect from a Canadian named Mohammed?) threw a bachelor party for Sean, a friend of ours and my college roommate. Sean and his wife-to-be, Grace, aren't Mormons, but they are kind of prudish, so moe. set up a day-long party including a hike along the ocean in Marin County, followed by a trip to see a performance of "As You Like It" at the Marin Shakespeare Festival. Of course, because moe. is evil in a cool way, he made Sean read sonnets to befuddled hikers we passed them, and he arranged it with the Marin Shakespeare Festival folks so that Sean had to get on stage and recite some lines from the play (with the name Grace taking the place of Rosalind) before it started -- all while Sean wore a highly dorky "Bachelor's Last Night Out" shirt.

Fun was had by all. Hey, good bachelor parties with out the booze, the hooters and the wanton carnality are possible.

As long as a PowerPoint presentation is not involved.

Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who is looking forward to yet another bachelor party for a Mormon, except that this one will be thrown by two gay men. Really. Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays, and a column archive may be viewed at jimmyboegle.com. 1