You would think that going to the wedding of a former stripper would be something akin to a bachelor party in Vegas, equipped with gorgeous hog-wild single men running drunkenly rampant and ladies in skin-tight skanky dresses rocking fake eyelashes and reeking of Victoria’s Secret glitter body spray. In other words, the definition of an awesome fucking party. Apparently, it’s not. Too hung over from the night before to make it to the ceremony, I head over to Cocoa’s wedding reception and realize I’m already really late at this point. Having talked to Cookies before going, I have a general understanding that there are no men to take home tonight that are under the age of 50. Retiring from her super slutty days, Cocoa was getting married to one of the men who had purchased her at one time in her life, also 20 years her senior. Although he and his friends are much older than us, I decide to give this party the benefit of the doubt in regards to getting drunk and finding someone to take home…or at least pay this month’s rent considering they’re all super rich, wealthy fucks from Orange County…ugh I really hate leaving LA on the weekends.
Pulling up to the restaurant on the dock now an hour late, I check my makeup and contemplate whether or not this glittery rouge lipstick is too much for a daytime reception with a 60+ crowd. Deciding that it’s not and instead taking off my gold hoop earrings, I look out to realize that the entire party is seated outside at tables, no dance floor in sight. Fuck. How am I supposed to lure belligerently drunk rich men over to me with my super skanky dance moves? Talking myself out of driving back home and going instead to the bachelorette party I know of going on in Malibu, adorned with half-naked most-likely gay male strippers and Asian bridesmaids under 30, I get out of my car and decide that, fuck it, let’s do this.
Entering the reception area, I have all eyes immediately turn, focus, and glare at me as I come into the party wearing my black and gold lace dress and 7-inch stilettoes, completely over-dressed and under-age considering what everyone else looked like, most of the crowd wearing bandanas, jeans, pants, and khakis. FUCK. Figuring I should just own it, I do a mini curtsey and a Miss America wave to all the people staring and make my way over to Cookies sitting in the far corner with her date.
After doing a litttle AHHHHHH excited Flashdance move and giving Cookies a big hug, I take my seat down at the table as everyone was discussing something corny, like how big their fuckin boats are or the latest Jane Austen novel or how invigorating their mid-week colonic felt. Some real corny shit was the topic at hand as I begin with, “No wine for me thanks I’m still HUNG THE FUCK OVERRRR from last night, was totally throwing up out the cab, BUT LEMME GET A COFFEEE!! PLEASE THANK YOOOU!!” Cookies and her date begin to laugh excitedly and explain that, “HEY GUYS! This is Jayla…she’s from New Jersey but now lives in Hollywood” as the other guests at the table give a nod of realization and understanding, sit back, and turn away from me.
Having not seen Cookies and Cocoa for awhile, I update Cookies and her date on all my wild Hollywood woes and discuss the awesome time I had with Drummer the day prior, noting that we had a 14-hour first date and then a 12-hour second date, adorned with cooking together and singing 80’s Madonna music into our spatulas as we did so. As we discussed different friends of Cookies’ date that I could possibly go out with as a means to entertain our common acquaintances, I clarify that, “Oh don’t worry I’m keeping my options open so far considering I haven’t had sex with Drummer yet.” When hearing this, Cookies and her date look perplexed as they both ask,
Cookies and Date: Wait…wait WHAT?! You haven’t had sex with him yet?
Me: *more perplexed than they at their question* Umm…no I haven’t…why?
Cookies and Date: *disregarding my question* Wait…YOU…haven’t had sex with him yet?
Me: *getting irritated at what they’re getting at* NO assholes! I haven’t! What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!
Cookies and Date: *now looking at each other and giggling at the shared thought we were all having* Hahaha…well…we just figured you would. That’s 26 hours you guys have spent together! We just thought….
Me: *now fucking with them* Haha don’t worry guys. I know I’m quite surprised TOO that I haven’t had sex with him yet…but I want him to respect me OK?!
Cookies and Date: *now erupting in laughter* BAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! WHAT?!?!?!?!
Me: *actually upset that they’re laughing over this* FUCK YOU GUYS!!!! WHAT’S SO FUNNY ABOUT WANTING HIM TO RESPECT ME?!?!?!?!
Cookies and Date: *still laughing uncontrollably* You’re right sorry!! You’re right you should take it slow especially if you like him….sorry! Hehehehehee…
Ugh fuck you guys! Looking back and gazing over the crowd, I’m determined to greet Cocoa already and demand to know why I’m the sluttiest looking one at the former stripper’s wedding, when I see my blonde bombshell beauty gracefully glide off her yacht and onto the deck. Our eyes finally meeting in what felt like years, I shoot up out of my seat and prance over to my girl as we sweep each other up in an all-encompassing hug of HOLY SHIT!s and AHH YOU BITCH!s Still set in a half-embrace, I pull away to study my girl who is elegantly adorned in a flowing, sparkly, white dress, typically donning her fake eyelashes with her long beautiful blonde hair pulled back into a chic 1960’s bun. Having seen this bitch fucking and dancing stark naked many times before, I must say that my girl sure cleans up nice. “YOU BITCH YOU’RE NOT FOOLING ME!” I bark at her as I hold her face in my hands, Cocoa giggling with glee knowing damn well what I mean. She looks amazing and, even more so, she looks amazingly happy.
I’m still holding onto Cocoa when a skinny 85-year-old man comes brushing up against me, as he runs his hand seductively from my shoulder to my elbow and states, “Oooh wow what a beautiful lady you are…I wish you’d come hug ME like that Missie!” now raising both his eyes twice (the creeper wink) with a “I HAVE A VIAGARA-INDUCED BONER!!” grin plastered on his face. I can’t help but smile and “Oooooh maybe later” back due to the fact that this is the most I’ve been hit on all day looking as lovely as I do. Laughing at the interaction, Cocoa explains that “Ted, this is my friend Jayla from Jersey! She’s a wiiiiiiiiiild little thing!” Ted looks even more turned on as he tells me, “Hey I have a friend from Jersey over at the bar..you should come talk to us!” As Ted walks away, Cocoa bursts out laughing and challenges me to fuck him, explaining that he’s totally single and available and a REALLY NICE GUY HAHAHAHAHA! I tell Cocoa to go fuck herself as I genuinely contemplate going over to talk to Ted. Shit my rent is late man.
After dinner, we all get onto the yacht for an hour-long ride out on the water. Cocoa’s husband gives a mini-speech about the cleanliness of the boat when he points to a sign reading “NO DRUGS ON THIS BOAT” and explains that, “Don’t worry everybody, this does not include weed and coke!” YESSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!! In response to this statement, the groom’s biker friends in the far corner begin to shout, holler, and cheer out “OK GOOD CUZ WE BROUGHT A LOT OF COKE MAN!” Ugh, that statement is like music to my ears. While Cookies and her date chat up other couples, discussing how you two met, how long have you known each other, are you guys as great as us, bla bla bla couple’s game nights!, I decide that, never mind, I’d rather not single myself out as the 25-year-old single girl doing lines of blow on the yacht with the 50+ biker crowd all bitter as shit cuz I’m not married or in a relationship, because I’m not. I, instead, continue to bullshit with Cookies and her date about my next vaginal escapade and wolf down all the desserts I would otherwise stay far away from on dry land.
When walking back to my car at the end of the night, I reminisce about the times Cookies, Cocoa, and I would drunkenly meander down Hollywood Boulevard barefoot after a night of partying, singing to one another in the pizza shop then demanding piggyback rides home from handsome strangers because we were TOOOOOO FUCKING TIRED AHHH to walk any further. I think back to the nights the three of us would sprawl out on my living room floor among a sea of Oreos and Snickers bars as we contemplated WHY THE FUCK it didn’t work out with *insert random heartbreaker here*. Before we parted ways, Cookies and Cocoa demanded that the three of us get together for another ladies night “like old times,” however, I know far too well what friendships look like after weddings, which is never the same. As I start my car, I picture Cocoa in her white dress doing her routine run with all her guests and Cookies giggling flirtatiously as her date would whisper in her ear. “Another one bites the dust,” I think to myself as I smile and shake my head. Now time to go sleep off my hangover.
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