FLORA GILL reveals how bachelorette parties are now precious three-day extravaganzas

Here I am in the middle of a tacky dance floor in Lisbon, a temporary tattoo of my boyfriend’s face pasted onto my arm, and feeling pretty sick.

I don’t know if the sudden nausea is because of the dozens of shots I had to consume during drinking games, the fact that a girl I’ve only just met has been sick in my open-toed sandals, or the memory of the chest hair I plucked from my salmon roll while eating sushi served by a naked man.

I want to go home – but I can’t, as the minibus doesn’t arrive for another hour and I can’t afford my own taxi, having spent over £500 on this (and taking a precious day off) three day so-called holiday.

Welcome to the modern bachelorette party.

Where a decade ago a bachelorette party would have been a one-night affair at a favorite spot in your own town, they are now an unstoppable, unquenchable beast that rivals a small wedding, taking months and several days to complete. often in a foreign country.

And according to research conducted by Aviva, the average hen party costs visitors a whopping £652 when they’re in the UK, rising to £1,158 when they go abroad.

As shocking as that figure sounds, it all adds up once you factor in flights, lodging, activities, merchandise, your share of the bride’s expenses, and a predetermined, often color-coordinated wardrobe.

Unsurprisingly, the survey also found that a third of people turned down an invite to a bachelorette party, citing exorbitant costs as the main reason for staying clear.

Over the 12 stag parties I’ve been to over the past six years – and bear in mind that a two-year pandemic break is included – I’ve spent over £4,500, an amount that would put a pretty decent dent in a down payment on a flat .

I used to be the strongest supporter of such celebrations. It was the first thing I asked when a close friend got engaged; I don’t want to see the ring or even know the groom’s name, I just want to hear about the drunk party.

But now, after a dozen — with more to come this summer — my attitude has changed. Just like every friend I know.

In fact, when I polled my Instagram this week and asked followers if they viewed these pre-wedding adventures as “so much fun” or “gone too far,” 80 percent even went for the latter.

Perhaps the worst development of the bachelorette party is that so many take place in foreign locations. You can see why a bride-to-be — or rather, her bridesmaids — would opt for a bachelorette party.

Planning a party in an English city is often just as pricey as overseas options, and it’s hard to top up your tan at a rain-ravaged, windswept swimming pool in the UK.

But this means you’ll have to take days off – and pay hundreds of pounds – to go on holidays that you may have no say in. This may not seem like a big deal, but I’m 32, which means I get more weddings and bachelorette invites than text messages from my mom.

Because another disastrous development of the colossus is that while they used to be just for the bride and a few of her best friends, they now involve every female acquaintance invited to the wedding.

At a bachelorette party my friend attended, over 30 women attended (as a rule of thumb, no one needs more good friends than Jesus – more than a dozen is blasphemy).

Gone are the days when women share a small group of friends all their lives. Modern women have friends from school, university, work – and there is no guarantee that they will merge well.

People hate being forced to go on vacation, mainly because they don’t go with their friends, they go with someone else’s. I’ve been to several horrible bachelorette parties where the only person I knew was the bride.

Perhaps the worst part is the organizing, the endless WhatsApp group exchanges that start with finding a date anyone can go on, followed by the ‘outreach’ for ideas, before the dictatorial head bridesmaid warns everyone about ‘The Plan’.

For some reason, we assume that everyone has forgotten how to socialize. So instead, every moment is filled with organized fun. It’s never alone 6-1am, go out to dinner, get drunk, laugh, like most other nights with friends.

Instead it’s 6-6:45 PM Make Cocktails, 6:45-7:12 PM Play ‘Never Have I Ever’, 7:12-7:15 PM Short break for bridesmaids three and four to reapply their makeup. . . The only joy I feel is muting the WhatsApp group when the last day of the chicken is over and I no longer have to read messages from 15 different numbers.

Why then, you may ask, am I responding to them? Being invited to a bachelorette party is seen as an honor, and saying you can’t attend is a comment about your relationship with the bride-to-be. It’s like turning down a date with Harry Styles; you better have a damn good reason.

I’ve seen many bachelorette parties mark the end of friendships. At two o’clock when I attended, a member of the party was subsequently not invited to the wedding. In the first, the former bridesmaid had started as the organizer of the event. But as the weekend approached, she felt she had organized too few activities.

As a result, the bride demoted her to plain old contestant – and in protest she left early. Apparently that wasn’t the kind of energy the bride wanted at her wedding, and ten years of friendship were thrown away with the penis piñata.

At the other bachelorette party, a friend of the bride kicked off the weekend with what chicken law says every woman should do: get drunker than a fresher on a bar crawl.

Still, she timed it badly and was a few shots ahead of everyone else. By the time the classic Mr. and Mrs. games started — when you ask the bride-to-be questions about her husband-to-be — harassing her was a little too honest.

It soon became clear that she was not a fan of the groom. When the bride had to answer the question “Who was smarter?” the chicken that picked up her terrier might outsmart the betrothed.

But perhaps worst of all, a friend of mine got into a fight with a bride because she told her she couldn’t afford the bachelorette party. It would cost over £300. She informed the horrified bride that she would not make it.

The bride started sending me a list of ways my friend could generate enough money by following a few simple savings tips. Her suggestions included “forgo your daily coffee at Starbucks,” “sell your old clothes on eBay,” and “be in the overdraft.”

My girlfriend eventually admitted that she could probably find the money, but the bachelorette party wasn’t what she wanted to spend it on. That was the end of their friendship.

Given how extravagant and expensive weddings have become (average wedding costs have doubled to nearly £25,000 in the last decade), it’s perhaps no surprise that stag/hen parties have followed suit.

But I still don’t see why the feat of finding someone you’d want to spend the rest of your life with is worth so much time off my schedule and money off my savings.

I’m not sure I’ll ever have a chicken of my own. But when I do, I like to organize it myself and keep it modest. But though I now say this with confidence, I have seen it happen to many a friend before me.

They complain about every hen they attend, but once that ring lands on their finger, they’re overwhelmed by the contagion – and it’s time to grab their passports and their penis straws and start sketching out the plan.