Last Saturday I went to a club for the first time in a long while. I made the exception because it was my friend’s bachelor party. I normally try to stay far away from clubs as I believe I may be allergic. Somehow, things always turn into a disaster. I have to deal with the bouncer, waiting in line, (and when you get in, it’s practically empty) the pretentious girls, the cool guys, the grumpy people, the harmonious techno music, the overpriced drinks, and finally the impossibility of trying to meet someone. It usually just does not work out.
The beginning of Saturday night was no different. My friends and I waited for a while in the obligatory line even though we were on the “list.” The bouncer ignored us (although he was not as brutal as usual…more to come about that soon.) And the girls behind us thought they were better than us…
…there were 6 of them for a bachelorette party. I jokingly said that 5 of them seemed really cool. They were heavily insulted by my playful comment, (“How dare you…”) and decided to treat me like crap the rest of the time. At least I have a new category for my dealbreaker’s list…if you can’t take a joke, see you later! For the complete dealbreaker list, click on: http://thecorner33.blogspot.com/2008/06/deal-breakers.html
Then something weird happened. We got in faster than I thought. The girl-guy ratio was amazing, and they even gave us a table with a complimentary bottle of champagne. The drink prices were reasonable, the music was decent, and we even found cool girls to dance with. And most importantly, the bachelor had a great time.
Saturday broke my streak of terrible experiences at clubs. But it still hasn’t changed my overall view of them. Here is the breakdown of what usually happens when a nice guy like me tries to party at a club.
I hate bouncers and they hate me even more. A picture of me must be presented at the annual Bouncer’s Convention labeled: “Treat him like shit and do not let him in.” No matter where I go, I always seem to have a run-in with one of these muscle heads (my friends know exactly what I’m talking about.) I’m never on the right list, wearing the right clothes, or know the right people.
I try to be friendly and treat the bouncer like a human being: “So how’s the night going? Where are you from? Did you see that game?” Nothing. No response. It’s like they are programmed to be sub-human.
I try to keep my cool as hot chicks cut me in line. I guess it makes sense; they’re hot. But when I see D-bags with gelled hair and gold chains skip in front of me, that’s when I start to lose it.
When it’s finally my turn to enter the club, I have to deal with being judged by the bouncer. I endure the ridicule as he teases me about my clothes, hair style, and lack of dope jewelry. Sometimes I ignore it, pay the absurd cover, and then walk in. But sometimes they don’t let me in so I snap. I criticize the overgrown man for being narrow-minded and irrationally threaten to sue him and the entire club for sexism. That’s when more bouncers/security guards come out, stare me down, and tell me to go home. As I walk away with my tail between my legs, one thought comes to mind…
I am a Bouncist. I have no problems with people of different ethnicities, races, sexual orientation, age, height, or religion. But I do have a problem with bouncers. It is not fair to stereotype or generalize, but all bouncers are evil and terrible people. I am a full-fledged Bouncist. I think bad thoughts about them and if there were rallies against bouncers, I would probably attend. Maybe I am ignorant. Maybe there are nice bouncers out there. But until I meet one, I am committed to my beliefs, and will embrace my bouncism.
Doing the Dance
When I do get in, I must face this challenging question: How do you meet a girl at a club? Obviously, you can’t talk to them because the music is too loud. This kills the nice guy who depends on charm, intelligence, and sense of humor to meet a girl. Instead, everything is based on physical looks and dancing ability.
I don’t know who started this courting ritual, but there is only one method that is used in a club setting. And that is…trying to hump a girl on the dance floor. This has to be one of the most bizarre and awkward scenes you’ll ever see.
This is how it works. The man, usually intoxicated, will shuffle through the dance floor looking for a flock of single women. If he sees hips moving and possibly a smile, he will approach her like a shark to its victim. Slowly, slowly, and then attack. He comes in from behind and performs pelvic thrusts against the woman. The woman cannot see him so she must turn to her friend and use her as a mirror. The woman gives her friend the look: “Should I be dancing with this guy?” If the friend rolls her eyes and gives the look of death, the woman distances herself from the man. The man usually attempts to hump her 2 or 3 more times before he gives up and moves on to the next girl.
Here’s the crazy thing. Sometimes, the humping method works. If the girl is equally intoxicated or the friend gives her the thumbs up, she then rewards the man by shaking her butt. She takes his hands, wraps them around her waist, and they grind for several minutes. Once they are sweaty, she turns around, and then they make out.
Women often complain about the humping method. Why would men think that’s a good way to meet women? Well, blame the guy/girl from the 2nd example. When guys see it work once, they try to emulate it. The problem is that they have no idea what they’re doing, and it becomes a disaster for everyone involved.
My Personal Experience
I am terrible at the humping method. I am timid with my approach and resemble more of a puppy then a shark. Girls, like bees and dogs, have the innate ability to smell fear. I am nervous and uncomfortable and they know it. I hold my drink in one hand and gently try to place my other hand on the girl’s waist. Meanwhile, the girl is moving to the beat which usually causes me to spill some of my drink. I have hardly any rhythm so my humping motion looks more like a seizure. The girl turns to her friend and I almost always get the look of death. The worst part is that I can see what the friend does. I feel like a reject on American Idol. I swear I’m a good guy. I’m cool. I just don’t know how to hump your random friend on the dance floor. Cut me a break. By then, the girl and her friends have all moved on to the opposite side of the dance floor, and I am dancing by myself.
There is one personal exception where I feel cool on the dance floor. And that’s when old-school rap blares from the speakers. I have a newfound confidence when I can sing the words while I dance. If the Humpty Dance, Baby Got Back, or Bust A Move start to play, I’m suddenly the man. I have no inhibitions, and even have a little rhythm. I’m so enthralled with the music that I don’t even realize I am successfully performing the humping method. Confidence goes a long way on the dance floor.
Unfortunately, not every club plays old-school rap. The clubs now love to play the techno/house music although I have the slightest idea why. Techno/house music is the equivalent of modern art. Neither of them make sense, are enjoyable, and they both make you think: “How is that music/art if a kindergartener could create the same thing?”
You ever look around in a club and see the miserable people sitting on the couches? It’s like a middle/high school dance with the sad, lonely outcasts on the bleachers (think 16 Candles.). At the club, these people take solace in their cell phones or just stare straight ahead at no one in particular. It’s really sad. And when you try to cheer them up, they snap at you, and pretend they are fine. They don’t want to be consoled; they’d rather stew in their own misery. Obviously, their decision making skills are also weak as they probably should not be in a social, interactive environment. They would be better suited at a library, funeral, or possibly a therapists’ office.
Two Success Stories
Years ago, I was in Vegas for a bachelor party. We went to Studio 54 in the MGM Grand. I was young, drunk, and somehow ended up by myself. I met a nice girl on the dance floor who seemed to enjoy my awkward dancing. Soon it become more passionate and we began to make out. After a few minutes, we went outside to get some air.
We finally spoke and introduced ourselves. I was very interested in getting to know her especially since she had a tongue ring. She told me the following: she was married, had 2 kids, and her very large husband was somewhere in the club. Apparently, he had pissed her off so she thought she would make out with some random guy. When I asked if he was bigger than me, she nodded enthusiastically. I immediately sprinted back to my hotel room, and double locked the door. I slept with one eye open and clutched my tennis racket for protection just in case there was a knock at the door. Fortunately, I survived the night.
My buddy brought me to a club in LA. I performed the humping method and actually met another nice girl. We kissed and danced; and danced and kissed. It was nice. When we stepped outside, she literally had nothing to say to me. I introduced myself and asked questions, but she was silent. She LITERALLY had nothing to say to me. She was DEAF. Although she was very nice, there seemed to be a communication barrier, so we both agreed to move on.
Clubs are just not the right place for me to meet women. It’s loud, pretentious, uncomfortable, unpredictable, and it’s just not my scene. Saturday night may have been a fun experience, but I’ll stick to meeting women the old fashioned way: going to strip clubs.
Well Played, Ben Cherington
1 day ago