I ventured out to the clubs the other night & it made me feel a lot of things… but it mostly made me feel old. I gazed out onto the dance floor & it was like going back in time. I recalled (to the best of my ability… we all know how liquor works) busting a move on that same dance floor, usually after spending endless hours on my hair/makeup/outfit combo, & ingesting countless shots, & almost (or succeeding in) falling down a set of stairs (but please, please, please keep that to yourself).
I remember taking off my too-high heels, constantly pulling down my too-short dress, mooching drinks off too-drunk men, & having minor difficulty getting my too-drunk self home on a regular basis.
But I don’t do that anymore. I have no desire to do that anymore… it’s weird. Seeing the girls at the club with scraps of fabric clinging to their bodies in lieu of actual clothing, bouncing around on the dance floor, probably screaming, doesn’t make me want to be one of those girls. I have gone through that phase, emerged relatively unscathed (surprisingly) & I don’t really want to go back to that.
& not wanting to be one of those girls goes hand in hand with not wanting to be with one of those guys.
You know the guys I mean.
The guys wearing bejeweled Ed Hardy t-shirts & aggressively tight True Religion jeans, complete with overly gelled hair do’s & a thick wad of 20s (freshly liberated from the handy bar ATM) tucked neatly into their Diesel wallets.
The kind of guys who will ply you with drinks all night, touch you inappropriately, take your phone number, but never text you unless it’s after 11 o’clock on a weekend, & who just radiate the general aura of douchey-ness.
I guess I’ve grown up. I don’t want to use random dudes at the club as my own personal drink dispenser, & I also don’t want to let them dry hump me on the dance floor.
Unfortunately, not entertaining the idea of semi-romantic encounters with male individuals like the ones described above significantly reduces the number of potential suitors in this city.
I guess even just being a responsible adult shrinks the pool of potentials — not that I’m a responsible adult… yet. I’m at that weird stage in life: inbetween being a careless child & a full-grown, full-on responsible human being. I mean, I’ve come a long way from crying in the bathroom at a strip club because some beefy bro called me ugly: I don’t want to get it on with the flaky douchebags at the bar… but I am definitely not ready to settle down with a dude who has a career & owns a barbeque.
I’m not a girl, not yet a woman — as Britney would say. I’m not in any sort of rush to meet someone & buy a house in the ‘burbs. I am enjoying this inbetween stage of my life, as I should be. When else am I going to be able to do what I want when I want where I want whoever I want to do it with?
NEVER again. Or at least not until I am way to old to enjoy it. So, I am going to relish these moments — quit worrying about the past & fretting about the future… & just enjoy what’s happening now.