Clubbing. Hundreds of people. No personal space. Drunk creeps stumbling after you. It is definitely not a favourite pastime of mine.
Every month or so my friends demand that we all ‘go out’ together one night. Unfortunately this refers to clubbing. Don’t get me wrong, I love to dress up, see my friends, and listen to great music, but having to spend the night avoiding creeps that won’t leave you alone, and lining up for ten minutes for a $15 drink that is half ice, after you just paid a hefty entry fee is so not my idea of a great Saturday night. Instead, I’d rather spend it having a movie marathon at home on the couch with a tub of chocolate ice cream! Now that is bliss!
A night out clubbing normally starts with me spending forever figuring out what the hell to wear. I feel obliged to wear high heels that will cause me to be in agony within a few hours, and so I wear them. I struggle to apply half-decent make-up and then I head over to my friend’s house for ‘pre’s’ (pre-drinks) and naturally as always I feel like I don’t look anywhere as nice as my friends do. Even if I left my house thinking I looked quite good, they always seem to pull off their outfit better. I know that sounds shallow, and it is not like I always have to look better than them, but it would be nice if I felt that way just once.
My friends would pull the alchopops (pre-mixed alcoholic drinks) out of the fridge, and encourage me to drink up. I really don’t enjoy alcohol. I don’t mind having a drink or two, but I like to stop there. One of my friends in particular always is telling me to drink more, and if I don’t then I am ‘boring’ or ‘annoying’. It frustrates me that she refuses to listen when I tell her I don’t want any more, or that I don’t want to spend any more money on alcohol. Admittedly the alcohol does seem to assist with my social awkwardness, but the splitting headache and aching stomach the next day is so not worth it.
After taking the train into the city we head into a club. The music is so loud you have to yell in each other’s ear to hear each other. There is nowhere to sit and my feet are already starting to hurt in my high heels. We line up for a drink, and so has everyone else in the club it seems. The bar is hopelessly understaffed as always, and so we spend half the time there waiting to get the bartender’s attention. Finally we have our drinks, and my friends want to dance. Being an introvert, and at times quite shy, I really don’t like dancing in public. I awkwardly dance with my drink in one hand. As always two of my friends suddenly have guys trying to get them to ‘dance’ with them (aka grind). That’s another thing I cannot stand about clubbing. Why can’t guys just dance with girls like the way girls dance with their friends? Why do they have to ‘grind’ their groin against the back of you while you, horrified, try and escape? Maybe I’m being a prude, but really? I don’t even know who you are, random guy, give me some damn personal space! And if I move further away, that is not an opportunity for you to follow me and ignore my attempts to escape!
At last when my friends have had enough of clubbing I try to figure out the easiest and cheapest way to get home in the middle of the night. Another $50 is likely to go down the drain because I have had to hail a cab. When I arrive home I flop onto my bed and sleep as best I can with the constant ringing in my ears from the loud music. I drift off to sleep and dream of that movie marathon on the couch. Maybe next time.