Clubbed

“Dude, we’re gonna get you laid tonight…”

It’s never a good thing when your friends say that, especially when you’re not sure what motivated them to say it in the first place. Maybe they suspected I was a virgin? I’d never talked about it… but I’d never been seen with a girl either. Perhaps they’ve simply drawn their own conclusions by now. (Worse yet, perhaps they’ve discovered my blog!) Whatever the case, they clearly thought I needed some action.

The destination, though? A new club that opened up nearby. Oh, hell no.

Now, I used to go clubbing all the time. I was out in the Hamptons every weekend in the summers. I once had a dance-off with Flavor Flav. I went clubbing for one reason only, and that was to dance my ass off all night long. But that came to an end by the time I was 23. I just couldn’t take that whole scene anymore. Been there, done that, didn’t want to do it anymore.

Nowadays in my old age the noise levels in those places are intolerable. I can’t hear anything anybody says to me and I can’t make myself heard unless I shout, and I lose my voice after ten minutes of shouting. That’s assuming that I even have anything to contribute to the conversation, which I usually don’t. I just end up standing there staring at everyone with my ears ringing and my head pounding and a feverish desire to be anywhere else. And I don’t drink, so there’s really nothing for me to do there but to develop a foul mood.

Nevertheless, I gracefully acquiesced. The whole gang was going, and it had been a long time since I’d seen everyone. It had been even longer since I’d really cut loose and boogied. Not to mention I’d acquired a whole new catalog of dance moves I was eager to show off. So… what the hell! I could certainly use a distraction from the craziness that’s been going on in my life.

I was tearing it up on the dance floor within minutes of my arrival.  If you get there around 9 or 9:30 you have plenty of room to move, but once 11PM rolls around it turns into a sardine can and everybody is consigned to dancing in place. So I took advantage of the opportunity and pulled out everything in my arsenal.

A short while later my friend Chris tapped me on the shoulder and told me I needed to tone it down. “There are a whole lot of girls watching you but you’re intimidating them with your dance moves. They’re not going to come near you if you keep doing splits and high kicks and all this other crazy shit.”

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I just shrugged. I was there to dance and have a good time and I didn’t care what anybody thought, and I told him so. He just shook his head and walked back over to the bar where the rest of the gang was watching me. I went back to doing my best James Brown impression, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to take his advice just to see what would happen.

Twenty minutes later there were three girls were dancing around me in a circle. This was the same trio I’d watched a dozen guys approach throughout the night and try to insert themselves into their circle, only for the girls to turn their backs and shut them out. It was hilarious watching guy after guy being rejected. But they must’ve taken a shine to me because they surrounded me and wiggled their asses at me. A cowboy hat appeared out of nowhere and landed on my head, and since the DJ was spinning a Luke Bryan song (!) I just went with it and busted out some country line dancing. My fans hastened to imitate me, and a couple of songs later the country music interlude ended and the cowboy hat mysteriously disappeared.

Then one of the three put her arms around my neck and started humping my leg. I put my hands on her hips and allowed her to keep rubbing her crotch against my thigh. This is interesting, I thought. But not nearly as interesting as when she started grinding her crotch against my own. I developed the biggest erection in the world, which I felt pretty self-conscious about.  Apparently she didn’t mind; she rubbed against me even harder. Then she disappeared without warning, leaving me confused and horny. Sigh. I just made my way back out to the floor and resumed doing my thing.

Shortly afterwards another girl started dancing with and grabassing me. But this one wanted to have a conversation as well:

“Wah wah WAH WAAAAH womp womp wah wah wah WAH!”

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At least that’s what it sounded like to me. By that point in the evening everybody sounded like the adults from Peanuts. I had no idea what she was saying, so I just nodded my head and said “yeah” a lot and that kept her going. I looked up and noticed my friends in the background making frantic scribbling motions and mouthing “get her number!” Ugh. No thanks. This chick was drunk as all get out and reeked of alcohol. Not impressive. In fact, she fell flat on her ass thirty seconds later. I took that opportunity to do a spin and moonwalk back across the floor. Somebody sprinkled dollar bills in my wake.

I finally took a break from dancing and joined my friends at the bar. More Charlie Brown voices. Suddenly there was a hard shove in my back and I nearly fell into a bar stool. I turned around and found some girl with her nostrils flaring. It took me a minute to decipher what she was shouting over the BOOM BOOM BOOM of the music, but I finally gathered that she thought I pushed her friend onto the floor. Before I could dispel her of this notion, she grabbed some random guy’s drink and threw it all over me.

The owner of the drink was completely unfazed. He just looked me up and down and said something to the effect of, “Oh, you’re that faggot that was dancing out there before…” before walking away.

i decided to call it a night after that.

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Profile 2.0

I roll out new versions of my profile like Microsoft rolls out new versions of Windows, and thereafter it’s a never-ending stream of fixes and updates. This time around I actually got some help from a fellow blogger. I’d found Perpetual Prude on OKC, so she found me too and offered some suggestions.

One of them was to excise the double entendres and innuendoes. Her advice reminded me of something I’d learned long ago but kinda forgot. And that is to steer clear of sex jokes. Actually, it’s a good idea to steer clear of most jokes, period. Humor does not always translate well online. One bad joke in a message can kill any chance you had. That was a painful lesson I learned many times before it finally sank in. For example:

(sometime in 2009)
Girl: Hey, I see you’re rather musical. Working on anything in particular at the moment?
Me: Not much, just trying to practice as much as I can. Although I am currently working on developing a line of rectal harmonicas.

(sometime in 2011)
Girl: I actually play the trumpet and the trombone. How about you?
Me: Trumpet and trombone, eh? You must be pretty horny then.

(sometime in 2012)
Girl (on her profile): I honestly believe that women don’t fart. Feel free to debate me on this.
Me (in my first message): I honestly believe that women don’t fart either. I think they just hold it in and it comes out as drama.

Unsurprisingly, none of these messages worked. Two of them of them ended the conversation and one of them merited a scathing response (I’ll let you guess which one). But thankfully I’ve moved beyond such juvenile compositions.  Nonetheless, there were still subtle things in my profile that had to go, like a hint that I spend my weekends masturbating at home. Although, if truth be told, that’s fairly accurate.

Anyway.

After I made the changes she suggested I saw a flurry of visitors, some new Quickmatch ratings, and a new message:

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“Hey there, You always come up under my matches or activity, so I thought I’d take a moment and say hello! How has your weekend been?”

Gah! I hate messages like this! Is it really that hard to find something to talk to me about, considering all the things I mentioned in my profile? I looked her over, but I couldn’t find anything in her profile that interested me, nor was I very attracted to her.  I decided to pass. Then I decided to go after two of my profile lurkers. These were my first messages to anyone new in two months.

Lurker 1
“You should message me if you like IPAs” she wrote in her profile. I had no idea what that was, and I couldn’t find any other conversation starters:

Me: I might like IPAs… what are  they?
Lurker 1: Beers with hops in them.
Me: lol – what does that mean?
Lurker 1: That’s the vaguest answer I can give you. If you don’t know what those are, then I don’t know how to explain it to you.

I was rather put off by her seemingly abrupt response. Not quite the reaction I was expecting from someone who had been checking out my profile over and over again. I moved onto the next one:

Lurker 2
She posted links to YouTube videos of her playing piano and singing, so she was easy to message: “I’ve been distracted by your music. So you play piano and sing… any other hidden talents?” We started talking music, and a couple of messages later I mentioned that I really liked her piano work in one of her songs and asked how long she had been playing piano for. And for some reason that was the end of the conversation. Never heard back from her. What a shame, because I really liked what I saw.

And that’s it once again for the OKC roundup. No other new messages, and I haven’t seen anyone else I’ve wanted to message yet. But thanks to Perpetual Prude I’m making a better presentation than I was before. We’ll just have to see what happens now.  And it looks like I have two new profile lurkers on my hands.  God help me…