So I found myself in a little club called the Cantina tonight, surrounded by what appeared to be the sleeze of Davis, sprinkled with a a handful of unwitting visitors.
I dont know how I got there. i was invited to a friend's house. he lured me there with the promise of cute girls. He failed to mention that they were all involved in relationships. Thanks Nate.
I felt like I'd seen the scene before, and I realized it was the same shit i had to deal with every time a dance floor was involved in a social gathering. I'm not terribly uncomfortable dancing. Its the initiation that is difficult. i dont know what I'm supposed to do. There were plenty of guys on the floor I did not want to look like, so I knew there was a wrong way to go about it... And once on the dance floor, through the wall of sweaty guys awkwardly dancing with eachother in an attempt to get into it, whatever the fuck it is, what was I supposed to do? dance with myself? just start dancing with strange females? Pick and choose females? Ask said females to dance? Rub on and otherwise degrade said females? I dont know the protocol, and it was too loud to present such questions to my more experienced comrades.
So I spent most of the time sitting in a chair, considering these questions. I imagine I had a rather dour expression, because I was asked three times by people I didn't know if I was alright. One told me not to look so happy to be there. I imagine I was wearing my "I Hate Humans" expression.
I danced a few times, the first with the aid of female friends in whom I had no interest. The following times (after the long period of contemplating the strange mating ritual) were inspired by sheer terror, as I convinced myself that in six months I would be in Iraq firing a rifle and dodging shrapnel. I tried to dance with a few girls. I'm kind of picky, which probably isn't the best policy. I thought I was dancing with one girl I found remarkably attractive. After some time (who knows how long?) i asked for her name, trying to start one of those half-heard conversations one is supposed to shout through when they go to a club. Clubbing... I didn't get to club anybody. It might have been a better night. Anyway, she answered me. Breanna, she said, with a slightly embarrassed smile. "She's my dancing partner," her slightly huskier and considerably less attractive friend said. I was amiable. I was charming. "Think you could share for a bit?" I asked. "No. Go away."
To all you ugly friends out there, FUCK YOU. Anyway... I tried to go away. I can respect that, and didn't want to make a creep of myself. There were far too many in the building anyway. There was, however, no escaping the dance floor, and I ended up behind her anyway, which made me nervous lest her friend suddenly prove ravenous. God, she was gorgeous. Nothing else happened. i evacuated as soon as a route became available. Mission failed.
Friends, family, readers of the strange sort that doesnt fall in those two categories, hear this:
I need to get laid. Some will shake their heads or their bibles or rattle some statistics in my face. Whatever. Its been seven months, and i'm pretty sure that's biologically unhealthy. Something is going to pop...
4 comments:
The "ugly friend" is our version of the Wingman.
And she's not necessarily ugly. In fact, I think she comes off that way specifically because she's doing her job: cock-blocking.
You men are incorrigible, you know.
And yeah, I don't like that scene either. It's false and pretentious and mind-game-based and everything I hate about establishing human relationships. So don't feel too conflicted about it. The sane ones know .
Or maybe it's just the insecure ones.
I oft find such a gathering to result in a large-scale visual attempt to reveal what a seizure would appear to be, if one could have one upon one's feet.
I'll third the "not my scene", and second Megan's dislike of mind-games. Yes, I could play them/play in turn with them, but it [a] takes too much effort, and [b] is annoying.
I'd say, as a warning, to watch the movie Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang, if you already haven't, as a warning about "the ugly friend". If you have, just remember the second bar scene, where Downey Jr. talks about the Indian Joe Pesci.
I like the "I Hate Humans" look, though. Because humans, on the whole, really do suck...
I feel the same way in that setting. I think I am just too insecure to actually have a good time clubbing, or maybe I am too sane...
There are always too many sleazy-seeming guys, aren't there? Maybe it is how comfortable someone looks in a club that makes them appear so ignoble.
Too insecure, too sane, too sober. I didn't take enough cash with me to properly lubricate my brakes, and didn't preflight thoroughly enough...
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