The Party

I was on my way to the pub when the phone rang.


“Kiko, it’s A. What’s up? Where are you?”

“Nothing much. Just leaving. Good thing you caught me.”

“Great. You’re on your way? Everyone’s here.”

A holds this birthday party every year since she can remember. It’s usually a great party, with lots of booze and great music. Actually, I wouldn’t know how it goes. I haven’t been invited since the birthday party she had in the fourth grade.

I guess you could say it was my fault. I teased her unmercifully on some neon pink Barbie bag she was wearing that day. Boys will be boys, I guess. I didn’t know the Barbie bag was the last gift her favorite grandmother gave her before she gave up the ghost.

Oops. I don’t think I can put tact under one of my better traits.

Twenty years later, A and I have become really close since I helped her through her breakup with boyfriend number 8 just after her birthday party the year before. I think it had something to do with maintenance issues, but it’s really none of my business.

As a reward, A finally invites me to her birthday bash, which just happens to coincide with R’s bachelor party. Great. Did I say I’ve had a crush on A like, since forever? Keep quiet, though. She doesn’t know.

Normally, if this were anyone else’s bachelor party, I’d have ditched it by now. Thing is, I can’t. I’ve known R ever since we were classmates in the third grade under Mrs. Jose. I’m also the best man.

“Might be a little late. I’m on my way to the pub. It’s R’s bachelor party”

“Tonight? But the wedding’s like a month from now”

“Tonight’s the only time all the guys can be together.”

That’s partially true.

I’ve been trying to move the bachelor party to AFTER the wedding just so I won’t miss her fucking party. That was actually okay with soon to be Mrs. R, but we’d rather have R’s bachelor party while R’s still a bachelor.

“Can’t you ditch that bachelor party?”

“I’m the best man. You know that.”

“Shit, Kiko. You could have told me earlier.”


I hate these moments. You don’t exactly know what to do, or what to say. In the meantime, your heart goes THUMPATHUMPATHUMP because you know the shit’s about to hit the fan and it isn’t slowing down.

Way to go, Kiko. You’re still as tactless as you were all those years ago. She was right. I could’ve told her earlier. Some friend I am.

“You mean you’re not coming here because of a fucking bachelor party!!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“How can you come here when you’ve got a bachelor party to attend?”

“I’ll try to get out without anyone noticing.”

“Fat chance.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“You know what? Never mind. It’s okay. They need you there. Have fun.”


“Well you can go fuck yourself too.”


Might as well hurry up. The guys are waiting.


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