I’ve always found buck’s parties to be really weird. I understand the concept of spending a day/night having fun doing things you might no longer have the opportunity/time for once you’re married, but I’ve also wondered: if the party is all about doing things that celebrate being single, how come the only time us single guys do most of them is at buck’s parties?
Christian buck’s parties are even weirder. The absence of the clichéd excessive drunkenness and female nudity which denote the prototypical secular buck’s night, coupled with the fact that in any gathering of modern Christian men, eighty six and a half per cent* are married anyway, means you’re left with a group of guys out for the day doing … what exactly?
In fact there’s only one thing weirder than a Christian buck’s day: A Christian buck’s day for the man who’s marrying your sister.
From the outset, I made it as clear as I diplomatically could that I did not expect an invitation and was not really keen on going at all. I don’t even know my sister’s new husband that well, let alone his crew of close mates, most of whom I’d never met.
I’ll admit, I actually had a pretty good time. It’s a cultural given that what happens on a buck’s day stays on a buck’s day, so I’ll limit myself to saying that My sister’s fiancé and his mates were cool enough to make traipsing around the Adelaide Hills in the cold and wet enjoyable despite the Adelaideness of it all.
We returned a tired, celebrated and thoroughly narrated groom-to-be to his parents’ house later that evening, where I was met with a phone call to tell me my grandmother had passed away, and the family was gathering at the hospital.We did so quietly and solmenly, and with a great sense of relief for the end of suffering.
It was such a strange day; madcap antics with a bunch of guys I hardly knew, followed by what should have been a truamtic night but which was completely, almost eerily, peaceful.
All in all it was an eventful first day, but the week was only just getting started.
*Yep. I made that one up