A stag party

Arriving back in the UK from the holiday in Italy last Saturday, I head for a country house hotel just outside London. I've been invited to the stag party of one of my friends from university who's finally decided to marry the mother of his children, and not having seen the guy for more than a couple of years, I'm looking forward to it.

Stag events aren't usually held in such plush surroundings of course. However all the guys who've been invited have done enough stag nights involving pub crawls and strippers, so a dinner in a private room in a top hotel with good food and wine is a fabulous idea :-). And because it's a stag event, there'll certainly be a lot of wine, and probably lots of other alcoholic beverages too!

"You must know some good stories about the bridegroom GB," says the best man, "I need material for my best man's speech so what can you tell me?"

"Well, we both shared a single bed in my room one night when we were at university, is that any good?" I try.

"But did anything happen?"

"No, we were both a bit drunk, but nothing really happened. Actually, I always thought he was interested in experimenting with his sexuality, but I don't think he ever did :-(."

"Pity," says the best man, looking slightly disappointed.

Racking my brain, I tell him a few more things, but suddenly I remember something that's bound to be of use if I dare share the information.

"About ten years ago, he confided in me when his girlfriend had just left him. He needed a shoulder to cry on, and while I was consoling him he told me about all the women he'd ever slept with! It's quite a short list too :-). Somehow, I doubt he'd have told me if I wasn't gay."

An evil smile crosses the best man's lips and he manages to coax some of the information out of me. I feel a bit guilty afterwards, after all, I'm sure I was meant to keep everything I was told on that occasion confidential forever. But having the best man expose the bridegroom's inner secrets during his speech at the wedding reception is a well established English tradition these days, so how could I refuse!

It's interesting how memory works. When I arrived at the stag event late Saturday afternoon, I could hardly remember any stories about the bridegroom, but as the evening wore on and the alcohol flowed more and more things came to mind.

We all had a great time on the Saturday evening, although the hangover on Sunday was less enjoyable. I, in particular, was thankful that no one had hired any female strippers. The waitresses who served us all in the private room had a tough time though, not because we made trouble for them, but they were definitely blushing listening to the all the bawdy stories that we were telling!