In The Club

“Hey! Is it okay if I dance with you? I actually just came from *insert name of another club here* and I went in and saw you. You were so gorgeous, I got star-struck.” Yes, this post was inspired by one of the cheesiest pick-up lines ever said to me. LOL.

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Clubbing is perhaps my favorite form of work out. I don’t really get to dance anymore as much as I did when I was younger so hitting the clubs is an excuse for me to shake what my momma gave me, and in cute/funky/shala outfits at that.

I know, it’s not for everyone. Much as I enjoy going to clubs, there are things that make me tilt my head to the side and go “Eh??” (with a popping animated question mark for full effect). Such as…

1. Guys who are too agressive

Not because a girl is dancing like Beyonce on crack does it mean that you have the right to gyrate your pelvic area on hers. No, it doesn’t work that way. And I don’t understand why some would randomly grab a girl by the waist or hold her hand or smell her neck. A minute of dancing does not make the two of you a couple. And get the drift, please. If she’s putting up her arms and giving you the “WTF, man!” look, or if she just stops dancing all together, it means you can get the fuck away already kthnxbi.

2. House. Music. Ugh.

Excuse my limited of knowledge of music but I really don’t enjoy house or techno or electronica or whatever you call that sound. At all. When house starts playing, I take it as my cue to go to the ladies’ room and retouch my make-up. I mean, how the hell can you dance to that? Why don’t you just give me Celine Dion instead? Or Menudo? It’s hip hop for me, baby. Period.

3. Accessories of fail

I love seeing people dress up, especially if they look cute and put together. But am I the only one weirded-out with people wearing shades inside clubs? And tiaras, too? I mean, unless you have sore eyes or you’re a drug addict or were in a fight and have bloodied eyes, I don’t get why you’d wear sunglasses when you canbarely see the floor in darkness. And if you just came straight from your prom, hence, the tiara… well, what the hell were you doing nside a club?! YOU’RE A HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!

4. Strippers

If I wanted to see girls taking their clothes off, I’d go to Air Force One or Pegasus or I dunno, some girly bar in Quezon Ave. I especially find it offensive when I go to clubs, especially if there are events, and they make girls dance and pseudo-strip. For a phone. For a mother fucking cell phone. It’s cheap, girls. Don’t do it.

5. Dancing in stilettos

Just a warning for y’all. Dancing to hip hop for 5 hours in your stilettos can cause serious damage to your feet. And I had to learn that the hard way a long time ago. Yes, I’m guilty of this and it bothers me that I still wear them when I hit the clubs. I mean, I wear Chucks, too, sometimes and I actually dance better with them but as Mariah Carey would say, “If you wanna look good, you gotta sacrifice and deal, beeyatch!” And really, they make my legs look longer!

6. Annoying dweebs

Guys, if you ask for a girl’s name and she just smiles or looks away, it means she’s not interested and/or she finds you creepy. End of story. Do yourself a favor and hit on some other “chicks” instead or go back to the bar and order another bottle of beer. Don’t go asking anymore who she’s with and if she’s single and if you can get her number. You won’t get anything from her, except maybe a restraining order.

Okay, now if you’re thinking I’m this party girl who struts around the party venues (wind blowing against her hair and all) in her skimpy fab clothes and flashy heels, with a martini on her left hand and a sequined hand bag on the other, don’t. I’m totally not.

I go to work in my tattered jeans and a hoodie. Hell, I normally don’t even wear make-up. Actually, many girls who go out and dress up and dance like there’s no tomorrow are just that- girls, like you and me, who wanna have fun.

After a crazy night out with friends and I get home, wash off my make-up and slip into my PJ’s, I think to myself, if those guys see me bare and un-glam, with eyebags and poofy hair to boot, if they read this blog or even bother to strike a decent conversation with me, would they still ask for my number or even ask to dance with me? Would you?

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