About a month ago The Man told me that he needed something before we get married. He needed a final “dude moment.” Assuming this moment would consist of a Bachelor party and copious amounts of boozy beverages, I reminded him kindly that he had one of those moment planned for a few nights before The Big Day.
He looked at me with his “Oh you’re so naive” look and explained that a Bachelor Party could not even come close to the “dude moment” he had to experience. No, he needed a moment of pure and unadulterated dude-dome. He proclaimed he would drive alone up and up and up to the neighbor land.
That’s right. Quebec held all the promise in the world for The Man’s necessitated Dude Moment. Now, before you call him out for being a ridiculous person because you have loyally read Canada O Canada… You should know that we obtained new passports and are now legal nomads once again. The Canadian Dude Moment would be entirely lawful, and seeing as it was required, it was going to happen.
He left promising no external communication and took on Quebec, his D-minus French speaking and all. He met up with friends, made new friends over poutine, trudged through student protests, and lost a respectable amount of money playing slots. He also consumed what he has since explained to be “the most amazing Rueben sammich of all human history.” Taking the surface roads all the way back, lengthening an already lengthy trip by about 5 hours and documenting each moment with but the snap of a cellular camera… The Dude Moment was exactly as The Man intended.
Solo. Independent. and Dudely.
I couldn’t help but feel that I had missed out on this last ditch effort at being a single person, and I planned my own adventure. The Bachelorette Party had already taken place, and those it did involve some crazy karaoke judging and being propositioned by a free-lance stripper, I felt as though I needed to create a moment just like The Man did. I called up The Best Friend, and Operation Dudette Week was all systems go.
I asked The Best Friend to come over to the new apartment and engage in what I dubbed “urban camping,” as I still (at this moment) have no furniture in the place. I could offer her no chair, but I could provide wine, pizza, and girl talk. She said this was a spectacular idea, and we planned on four days of finality. This would be the last time before one of us would be hitched to some dude (having completed his Dude Mission and all). She, too, is an engaged person and will be making the leap in a year. This would be our moment. Our Week. Our Dudette Week.
She arrived on Monday, and I don’t think we stopped talking until Thursday afternoon. We were roommates in college, and our love runs deep. We talked about impending marriage, old memories, and serious things like whether or not I would ever be able to knit like a proper person. We also made trips to the Uber Amazing Mall, engaged in a healthy amount of buyer’s remorse, drove around and around for the mundane, cooked things in unorthodox ways, and set up intricate machinery. Each of these stories are soon to come. Let me tell you now, though… The Dudette Moment was equally if not more successful than The Man’s Dude Moment. With these moments taken care of, we can now say a big “Bring it on” to what the next week holds.
I can’t wait!