Hen’s nights. I have only been to three in my life and it appears that there is only one male stripper in Auckland because he was at two of them. (My sister’s Hen’s was a very civilised affair in Hanmer springs and there was no stripper).

Our lovely friends are getting married next weekend and tonight was the Hen’s party (hence my super late post!), I have been half dreading it all week.

Because no booze. And what is the point of a Hen’s if not to get right royally off your tits, play silly games and travel in a big drunk giggling mass through town? I am a bit inexperienced I admit; I didn’t have a Hens of my own – I was a little tiny bit pregnant when I got married so it would have been a very ‘dry’ occasion… But I digress.

The reason I have been dreading it is because I don’t want to be a wet blanket. The lovely, and very organised bridesmaids had done a great job, with a ‘mixologist’ on hand and all sorts of delicious looking food. I drank soda water and lime all night – much to the amusement of the mixologist. I couldn’t eat the food and I knew that was going to happen so I had pre-loaded before I came out. And tried really hard not to yawn (cos’ late night) or be boring or not as excited as the rest of the bunch. And I went to the bathroom a lot.

I have to say, it’s really weird watching a stripper sober. We assembled and he duly arrived and did his ‘sexy’ entrance dance. He strutted around, gesticulating toward his ‘special area’ and manoeuvred both the bride-to-be and the bridesmaid into awkward and intimate clinches all for the amusement of the rest of us. I spent most of the time cowering behind both my friends and the pot plant on the deck desperately trying to avoid being dragged in to the ‘fun’. Seriously – my dress is silk and I will CUT you if you get whipped cream or body oil on it. Don’t test me man.

But it got us talking. What is sexy? Channing Tatum is sexy. That bit on a man’s body where his hips go down in a ‘v’ is sexy. I’ve also got a bit of a westie fetish for a man wearing nothing but black jeans – bare chest and feet. The GD has been known to ‘casually’ wander through the house dressed in such a manner just to see me catch my breath and forget my train of thought. We agreed that our experience of male strippers wasn’t sexy. And considering that this one advertised himself as ‘NZ’s hottest male stripper’ things weren’t looking good for the rest of them.

Anyway, it’s late now – the Hen has headed in to town with her best bitches to find a bar to dance the night away. I am starving but well hydrated and it is past midnight. Bedtime for me!