I don’t normally go club dancing. In fact, with the exception of swing dancing, I’d never gone clubbing in Britain. Until last night.

First of all, if you haven’t been clubbing in the U.K., you don’t know the definition of the word sketchy. Having been there with several girls from our trip, I can vouch that it’s virtually impossible for them to go to a club without being approached in ridiculous ways, being leered, groped, etc. And the worst thing is, that ups the ante. If you’re a guy, you’re either forced not to meet anyone of the opposite sex, or to engage in the same alcohol-fueled greaseballness.

For my part, my interaction with the opposite sex consisted of smiling at about two girls. I wasn’t a wallflower by any means, but I guess I hadn’t had enough to drink to suck up my pride and start grinding with random girls in the hopes of striking up a good conversation. Dancing by yourself can be fun for awhile, and dancing with the group of people you came with is always fun. But if you’ve already paid $15 to squish yourself into a room full of attractive people, and $8 a drink to get your courage up (for Rolling Rock no less!), doesn’t dancing by yourself sort of defeat the purpose?

As part of this new open relationship thing I’m in, I’m supposed to meet more people, and I’ve been doing that. I like doing that. But I’m now convinced that clubs are designed to eliminate any possibility of meeting anyone for anything more than a one-night stand. And if you’re enough of a sucker to try, they’re smart enough to take both all your money and all your dignity in the process. I’ll pass, thanks.

Posted on August 15th, 2004 by Lee
Filed under: Uncategorized