Everyone loves to get together with good friends every so often to catch up on things. Whether meeting for dinner or just hanging out at Starbucks for an hour or two and shooting the breeze over a cup of joe, it just feels good to see your buddies again. But when that group of friends consists exclusively of women, well, then you’ve taken things to a whole new level. In these particular instances, you’re talking about one of the most secretive gatherings to be found anywhere. Yes, I’m talking about hen parties.
Scholars disagree on where and when these hen parties originated. Some point to the Victorian era in England, in which women found themselves becoming the “property” of their husbands. (Of course, many modern-day man don’t really see what the big deal is there.) Anyway, my guess is that this led some of Queen Victoria’s female subjects to arrange for clandestine “coffee clatches” on Saturday mornings at their favorite coffee shop. You know, they were on virtually every corner back then.
Others, including many renowned archaeologists, believe these secretive hen parties began in the days of ancient Egypt, probably in the time of Tutankhamun, or Rameses II, or maybe even Cleopatra. Rumors have been rampant for hundreds of years about women of these ancient times gathering on the banks of the Nile to, I don’t know, exchange ancient recipes and supportive hugs, maybe?
I know exactly what you’re thinking: “What is the point of this pseudo-intellectual rant, you rambling idiot?”
My point is this: All of these little hen parties, from the earliest of times, have been absolutely off-limits to men. That bothers me, and I think it should bother all men. I mean, we’re men! We invented the wheel, for shit’s sake. Women owe us, don’t ya think?
But what bothers me more than anything, even more than being left out of this little chick party, is the secretive nature of all this. Why must those of the fairer sex insist on having these seemingly clandestine, almost Illuminati-like meet-ups at these strange locales, and at such seemingly random times? Why? Are there deep, dark secrets that can’t be shared with their spouses or boyfriends? is there some longstanding code shared by the female persuasion than they and only they understand? Is that what the hieroglyphics were all about? Good Lord! Maybe I’ll never know.
Oh well. I don’t even want to know anymore. Go ahead and have your secret, fun little parties, ladies. See if I care!
Just one more thing. Queen Victoria. Does she strike you as more of a latte or a cappuccino gal?