Right…for the first time in eons, I went out clubbing a week or so back. It was a Friday night and part of the itinerary tied to a friend’s birthday. I am not generally the clubbing type. It’s not that I believe I’m above it, or too old or anything like that. It’s just that I’m over it. Yeah I bob my head to certain dance tracks on the radio here and there and fall into a nostalgic place when my home PC stumbles across old MP3s. But for the better part, the Zoydberg that enjoyed the concept of clubbing is well and truly in hibernation. Safely tucked away from the chaos of hard house, tribal beats and ecstasy filled evenings. I am not like those now non-smokers that chastise the cancer stick now that they have quit…clubbing was cool, just not my fit anymore.
Anyway, I digress. The one thing that always intrigued me about going to clubs (be them the hardcore ones I used to go to or the preppy, tartish efforts in suburbia) was the, as Martin Lawrence’s character once called it “scattered ass”. No disrespect to women, in fact, I have the highest regard for women, but the hootchies that go out, all dolled up, with next to nothing on, putting on a show on the dance floor with “fuck me” looks. It’s almost an audition for a new Brittney/Christina music video. Again, please heed the disclaimer; this is not me painting all women that go to clubs as this brand of female, but definitely, a large, large proportion. As a hot blooded man, with a decent libido, above mentioned hootchies certainly catch the eye and quickly enough accomplish their mission of gaining their fair share of looks from their core targeted demographic.
I can’t, for the life of me understand how such a grave number of women put themselves out like that. It’s almost a true animal planet-esque sighting…”and here we see the 19 year old uber hottie with midriff and severe cleavage showing and micro mini hiked up even further to attain the affection and attention of men she doesn’t even have interest in. Quite the task she has as she battles the massive amount of alcohol she has had, the massive amounts of alcohol they have had as well as her 6 inch heels. ” Again, please don’t get me wrong, ornithology (braces himself for impact from female friends for that one) is one of my favorite past times but the way that the whole thing plays itself out is quite fascinating.
See, I’m no Brad Pitt or Jude Law or Johnny Depp, I don’t have old money or too much of new money and there certainly aren’t washboard abs nor huge penis burdens for me, but I have been ok with the ladies. They seem to like me, though in warped shows of affection and tumultuous endings, but they like me enough to at least stick around for stints of time and don’t mind being seen with me in public. But I have never been able to chat up a woman in a club, properly, or with any sort of suave or swagger. The 4 times that I was successful (there is context, put the pitchforks away) all have their own interesting stories attached.
The first was by accident, she was attractive, uninterested in my come hither looks and couldn’t care less, I left, came back and was going to attempt to hit on her, but found some random drunken guy hitting on her, she found me a slightly more attractive option and said that I was her boyfriend and he was to leave…that catalyzed conversation, and led to high school action…after, and only after, she found out that I was funny, witty and charming.
The second (note, the 2nd, 3rd and 4th were all on cricket tour) was me playing wingman to my mate…he scored her very attractive friend I took her out to eat some hay…was painful, but was for the sake of the Man Code.
The 3rd and 4th was me, not really caring, them noticing that I was part of a cricket squad from natal and returning soon enough, and everyone was decently tipsy to drunk…and that was that…they were more interested in the concept of than the actual person. I am convinced of this.
As the above summaries surmise, none of these cases actually have anything to do with the girl liking me. In fact, it was either due to her getting to know me, or just going with the flow of the context that I was able to put the proverbial points on the scoreboard. Which all just further backs up my age old ethos about myself…”I’m quite attractive once you get to know me”
The thing about me is, that I would, I guess, like to be found attractive for who I am, as that would validate my critiquing of those more superficial than me. Yes, very counterproductive, I know, but still how my warped mind works. That said, I don’t believe I am completely dodgy looking and have had the affection of some attractive girls. That is, however, only because I had the chance to speak to them. You see, a club does not afford someone like me, who puts so much stock in my abilities with my tongue (pun unintended) to err…eventually get to use my abilities with my tongue (pun intended). The music is too loud, the people are too tipsy and unfortunately, it’s more a case of first impressions that works the magic. I have fundamental issues with having to buy a girl a drink in order to buy her time as this infers prostitution (yes, yes, so does the date concept of dinner, movies, etc). The thing about the drink thing is, did you honestly get all dressed up and picture guys walking up to you to buy you drinks in order to flirt with you to get in to your pants? You seriously didn’t expect the man of your dreams to rock up and sweep you off your feet with you wearing hootchie heels and matching skank skirt? What does that say about him…you also could just have been out for a girls night, still looking like above mentioned 2 bit ho? All of this leads to the other fact, of which most of these women are aware and participate in, which is, to have the invisible “open for business” sign up.
The first thing a girl sees of a boy in a club is his looks, then his dancing ability. Both infer so much more about so much more. How he looks , speaks to his actual genetic makeup, his dress sense infers certain things about his taste in clothing and class factor as well as a certain something about the money he has access to. The way he dances infers his comfort with his own body and his confidence levels…all of which is conveyed in 2 simple minutes. Unfortunately, it would appear that most of these women that look attractive and have that sign up, are only looking for the best possible looking guy they can attract with the above mentioned qualities. I unfortunately, base any game I have on my ability to talk…which is nullified by the loud music, by the fact that they clam up already based on how I look (and what that infers) and a perception of what they want , and the fact that I am sober and they sorta aren’t…
To conclude, my excuse for not being able to pick up a girl in a club are because she would have made her mind up before I have even delivered my hilariously funny, witty and charming opening line. And as such, I shall remain on my soap box, cos who wants those uber hot, low moral fiber tarts anyway! Give me a girl with context, for goodness sake!
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