Why I hate clubs

When I was told that my friend’s 21st was to be held at Billy the Bums last Friday night, I was about as excited as going to the dentist. I would have preferred to have chilled somewhere more quiet, or at least, with less people, without feeling the need to “dress up”. So half-heartedly I went along, expecting the night to be a complete disaster. And so it seemed, initially.

We arrived fashionably late, and after 10 minutes of standing around like last farts, surrounded by hordes of pretty people, a waiter managed to organize us a table. We were a bit cramped, but it was better than standing. Our party grew more and more as people started to arrive and as we waited for the birthday girl. In the meantime I could feel two men who were sitting near us, staring at me quite intently. I guessed they were in their late forties and made me extremely uncomfortable as they made it quite obvious that they were staring at me. I tried to engage in conversation with friends but somehow I just couldn’t avoid their eyes.

Soon the birthday girl arrived, and to my horror, I noticed the two men slowly make their way to our table as they tried to get my attention. I ignored them as much as possible but eventually one managed to push past everyone and come straight to me. I looked up at him and could smell alcohol in his breath. It was awful. He wanted me to go with him so he could introduce me to someone. I politely declined (though I badly wanted to tell him exactly where he could go, on his own) and told him that I was here with friends. He insisted, but I stood my ground. What a nerve he had!! Eventually he gave up. To my relief I noticed him prey on several other girls that night, all who also gave him the cold shoulder.

This is one of the main reasons why I hate clubs. They have become such meat markets as men (and women) prey on their unsuspecting victims like hungry vultures. Yes, I used to be one of them, and now I cringe every time my mind wanders to those “dark years”. I just don’t know how many cheesy one-liners I can put up with anymore.

At least the night got slightly better as the night progressed and the alcohol flowed through my veins. I only had to avoid one more pass at me, this time from a younger, more attractive guy. I just wasn’t in the mood for that (what’s wrong with me??). The girls and I had a very funny episode in the parking lot where we indulged in a lot of champagne (which we later smuggled back into the club), sang happy birthday at the top of our voices and invited random guys to join us in the celebrations.

Next, we had the crazy idea of dancing on the bar. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but try now to imagine 4 chemically unbalanced girls, on a busy bar, trying to dodge people’s shooters while at the same time trying to dance to the beat of the music. Well, at least we had a good laugh. That is, until a guy decided to bite me several times on my leg. Still hurts. Thank goodness I had a tetanus shot several months ago.

Despite it all, I have to admit that I had a good time, singing and dancing with my friends and not having a care in the world. But I still hate clubs…too many pink shirts.