All Brides-To-Be Should Have One Last Fling Before The Wedding

This is your last chance for a bit of strange cock, honey.

Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

Aright, I got a nice year and a half reprieve from having to go to weddings — thanks COVID! But now the invitations are rolling in. Couples just can’t wait any longer. They’re gonna tie the knot even if it kills them — and us too. Been to a big event lately? Yeah, the masks start slipping further and further down on the face the drunker people get. By the end of the night the floor is littered with them and everyone is spitting on one another. Gross.

But anyhow, I love weddings. And pre-wedding events too, like showers and rehearsals. Here’s what I always tell the bride-to-be — definitely have one last fling.

Here are some good reasons she should take my advice and get herself shagged silly by someone quite silly:

• Monogamy is tedious.

• Men were put on this earth solely for the sexual pleasure of women, duh.

• Sex is a positive, not a negative thing. It’s called making love, remember?

• He’s probably getting a blow job at least at the bachelor party. So why shouldn’t you have a little fun?

• Nobody needs to know.

• It might be a top-five experience. You have no right to deny yourself that.

• Guys are really good at fucking other people’s brides. It’s Darwinian — it brings out the best in them.

• It will be a fun story to tell your granddaughter when you’re senile enough to start sharing it.

If you do take my advice and have one last fling, then you can go happily into the bonds of marriage. Because if it is a really good gone wild night, you will not feel deprived — you gave yourself the pleasure you deserve. But if it is not that great a gone-wild night, then you have simply learned that sex with your husband is best — and that’s a good thing to know if you want to make it fifty-plus years in prison — I mean wedded bliss.

For the average bride-to-be, there is a lot of stress around planning the wedding, and a lot of worries that maybe the whole marriage is a mistake. Every wedding party I’ve been in, the bride has spoken of feeling the cold feet. And a few girls I know have treated this “cold feet” syndrome with this very effective cure. But I can’t tell you about their adventures because of the woman code — these things are very, very important to keep secret. You do NOT want your groom knowing about it — he might get all sulky and cancel the wedding. Darn, the invitations have already been sent. What a humiliation!

But there is one story I can tell because I have been granted permission by my friend Kate. She agrees with me that her story is particularly instructive to young brides. They need to hear this and they need to make the right decision! So listen up, girls.

Kate’s story

Kate was going to get married to Jake. I know, their names almost rhymed. It was too perfect. “I’m getting married to my BF,” she posted on Insta, with a pic of the two of them kissing in the sunset of the infinity pool on their vacay in Cabo. I think she meant it ironically, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure.

I wasn’t the maid of honor, so I didn’t have any authority. When we were planning the bachelorette, though, some of the bridesmaids suggested Kate needed one last fling before entering the prison of monogamy for the rest of her life.

“Let’s hire one of those Hire-a-Squires for her,” they said. “It’s only five hundred. If we all pitch in a hundred bucks we can do it.”

Hire-a-Squire is an all male escort service for “Discerning, discriminating successful females.”

“Well, I think five hundred only gets him to show up,” I pointed out. “I looked at the web site. It says for overnights it’s like two thousand.”

“Ew,” squirmed the Maid of Honor, Leslie. “You guys are gross. We’re not getting Kate a male ho. At the most we’ll get a stripper. You know she’s not like that.”

We did know she was loyal to Jake. In fact, they had been together for almost six years after college and finally, he proposed. All that time she had been hit on by guys — better guys, I thought — but she’d always been true to Jake. Finally, I guess he figured he would never do any better so he “settled” for the girl he was already living with. And he reluctantly proposed. That’s the way it looked to me, anyhow.

I didn’t trust Jake. I thought he was a narcissistic, lying douchebag.

“Hey Jake,” I would smile, every time I saw them, and I’d kiss him on both cheeks and give him a big smile.

But I always kept my fingers crossed and I thought nasty thoughts about him as my lips touched his cheeks.

The bachelor party-perfect night to do It!

Anyhow, for the bachelorette, we went to this gay strip bar and then we ended up at a straight bar to finish off the night. We were pretty drunk. This really cute guy starts hitting on Kate. And we were all like telling the guy, “You gotta do this girl, dude, she’s getting married next week, she needs one last fling.”

“I’ll be her one last fling,” he said. He was totally cute and sweet. So much nicer and hotter than that jerk Jake. His name was Hernan. He was flirting with Kate and then I saw them making out. Us girls were like, woo! And then Kate was like, “You guys have to promise and super swear that you will never breathe a word of this to Jake. Super swear?”

“We super swear,” we said.

Then one of the bridesmaids made the mistake of filming Kate and this guy on her iPhone as they were dancing and making out in the bar.

Kate saw it and freaked out. She chased the iPhone girl all over the bar trying to get her to delete the video so Jake wouldn’t see, and then she fell down and it was a whole scene. Poor Hernan didn’t know what was going on. Kate started crying and said she could never cheat on Jake and that was the end of it. We got her in a cab and sent her home.

(Side note, I hooked up with Hernan that night. I have never minded being the consolation prize. He was awesome!)

The day of the wedding

Anyhow, it was a beautiful wedding at the Cathedral downtown and a plush reception at the California Club, which is the flossiest private club in Los Angeles. I got a little tipsy and I ended up dancing with Jake. I said, “Jake, I love Kate, and if you ever hurt her, I will cut your scrotum.”

He looked at me real hurt.

“Why you always got to be such a bitch, Christine?” he said.

“I just know a snake when I step on one,” I said, and I stepped on his fancy leather shoe.

He looked pissed. He just shook his head and went over to his bride where the little snitch told on me. Kate came over and yelled at me for threatening to cut Jake’s balls and stepping on his shoes, which for some reason she kept reminding me cost five hundred dollars. We had a bit of a fight but we weren’t going to let some half-day old husband come between us. We cried and made up and I forgot all about it.

The truth comes out

Well, surprise surprise. Who do you think was totally right in the end?

Turns out the jerk was already having an affair with a woman he worked with, and he was hoping if he just got married to Kate it would somehow just go away.

Well, about a year into the marriage the affair at work started up again. Not only that, she was beneath him — no pun intended — at work and when he tried to break it off — yep — big law suit.

He ended up in shit creek. Lost his job.

Kate was humiliated. They went to “therapy.” I got news for you — the only therapy that guy needed was what I told him at the wedding — to have his balls punished.

Of course, it didn’t work out. He started cheating with someone else. Three years into the marriage she finds the texts. Divorce court. And worst of all, at that point there was a baby. Sweet Sharon. Sweetest little baby girl. Damn him, I was so mad.

“Regrets, I’ve had a few”

Poor Kate had gone through three years of hell married to this shlep, and now she was a single Mom. Of course, she loved her little baby, but she was getting, you know, a little Mom-alkie. “Let’s have a Chardonnay! Like three bottles of it!” Who can blame her?

One night she had a baby sitter finally and we were out to dinner. She told me how much she regretted not going home with Hernan that night. “I didn’t want to cheat on the cheater,” she said. “What a laugh.”

I didn’t want to get into it — in fact I tried to change the subject. But she came back to Hernan.

“He was pretty good in bed, I bet,” she added.

She looked at me. I didn’t want to rub salt in her wounds. I shook my head. “Very average,” I lied. “And small.”

I made the “small penis” gesture with my fingers. Problem was, Kate knew me really well. She knew I was lying.

“OMG,” she gasped. “Christine! Don’t tell me. He was like really good?”

I shrugged my shoulders, tried to brush it off. It didn’t work.

“No way! Christine, don’t tell me. He was top five?”

That was a thing we girls had. We always shared our top five lays ever list with each other. And somehow Kate had intuited that Hernan probably had a spot on my list.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. I have to admit — he was like top three, actually. But I didn’t tell her that.

She was really bummed then, because she had missed out on a really fun night. Which made no sense really, because even if she had gone for the one last fling with Hernan, her ratchet husband would have still cheated on her and she’d still be here getting drunk on Chardonnay with me and talking about her baby’s favorite iPad app (it was something with balloons.)

The real reason you should have one last fling

So why do I say Kate should have had that one last fling? To tell you the truth, it might have freed Kate up, sexually, emotionally, who knows? It might have saved their marriage. I am not saying she’s in any way to blame for his adultery. What I am saying is that sex is not the horrific negative that we all pretend it is as a culture.

In my heart of hearts, I think she might have realized what a useless douche her husband-to-be was if she had hooked up with the guy I took home that night.

But the main reason? If she had done it, she might not have felt like such a stooge when his infidelities came out.

Ladies, why do we have to be the “virtuous” sex? Hell no! That is some old fashioned bullshit. Let’s relegate that to the dust bin of history where it belongs. One of the best ways to do that is to go and have a very not-virtuous, completely secret, and absolutely crazy wild night with someone you barely know before your wedding.

When that becomes an accepted tradition (like it actually was in some primitive cultures, by the way) then we will know that patriarchy is officially dead and women have at last evened the scales!