Thursday, September 24

And then she said "Darling, you don't understand. It was the black sambucas and it got out of hand."

Last Saturday night, I was reminded several times why I hate going out to pubs and clubs. Especially in this crappy town where I've found myself, once again.
Apart from the brief moment my friend and I were told off like a pair of naughty schoolboys for dancing on the furniture in the club, the later parts of the night, where the trouble usually kicks off, never happened. Although our group of thirteen or fourteen guys out celebrating a 'stag night' for a friend who's getting married this coming Saturday, all dressed in Hawaiian shirts were probably an easy target, nothing else much happened. But then again, the fight that broke out between two guys over a girl and a pool table in the 'quiet pub' that we'd all met up in at 7.30 was enough to set all the bad reminders off in my head at such an early stage. I guess that had already tainted the night for me.

It's probably been almost ten years since I've been out for a proper night on the tiles in this crappy town that I'm currently calling home. The fashions have changed, with the girls, anyway. Most of them seem to dress like they are auditioning for the next position to become free in The Pussycat Dolls. It's tragic and a little pathetic. It makes you feel like you can't even strike up a conversation with any of them, without them thinking that the only reason you're talking to them is because they are dressed like a hooker and you want to get into their knickers! Well, actually, no. I just wanted to enjoy the night....see if you were enjoying the music....ask if it's always a packed night in this club....have some small talk and chit chat. But of course, you're a Pussycat Doll wannabe, strutting your stuff around like you own the place, bumping and grinding like an extra in an R Kelly music of course my only intentions are sexual!
How on earth can you just go out an enjoy yourself in that kind of atmosphere?

The guys are just as bad. Ok, they aren't so provocatively dressed, but most of them look like they are auditioning for the next Twilight movie. Emotionless faces. Holding onto their pints like their lives depended on it. Occasionally changing their weight to the other leg, allowing them to strike yet another pose that's taken straight from Zoolander.

I left on Saturday night feeling completely disappointed in the so called clubbing scene in this town. My only solace and 'fun' were the times I dragged my brother up to dance to Chaka Khan and Prince, amongst others. Oh, and taking a liking to having several attempts at 'pole dancing'.

I walked with my brother back to his house, where his wife was still up, waiting for us to get back. I was kind of expecting to find her behind the front door, rolling pin in hand, anger and frustration in her face. Especially after the text messages she repeatedly sent to his and my phones asking the same thing; "Are you intending on coming back anytime soon!!!!".
The three of us sat together in the dining room, his iPod docked between two tinny sounding woofers and playing random, while we talked about our evenings. By this time it was fast approaching 3am. Shortly after, my brother stood up and announced he was too tired and was hitting the sack. I was torn between ringing for a taxi or sleeping over. I did neither. My sister-in-law and I stayed up all night talking, putting the world to rights and listening to my brother's music choices on his iPod. Everything was going ok until Scooter came on! I really need to speak to him about that!
The stupid o'clock conversations would have been nice, lovely even, had they not been broken on several occasions with outrageous flirting and quite frankly uncomfortable conversations from my own brother's wife....bordering on sexual suggestions that were just wrong, wrong, wrong!
I laughed them off.

I've since had a text message from her apologising, saying she feels embarrassed and ashamed and blaming the drink. Such an easy thing to blame, huh?
Why do some people never learn about the shitty effects of alcohol?!

I've not replied to her.

2 parlez:

sharon said...

Pussycat Dolls? You're so right. That's one of the reasons I don't do pubs and clubs - I'd stick out like the proverbial sore thumb.

gekkogirl said...