Lets talk Night Clubbing.

What is clubbing? By the end of this piece, I’ll have questioned whether I even spelt ‘club’ right …

This is apparently what happens at clubs. A lot of sweaty bodies that dance and rub together — enjoying the music.

So a night out is opportune and so begins the reality of ‘going out’.

Let’s start off with men, why do you go clubbing?
“Bro I go there to chill.”
“I go there to meet people.”
“I go there to get with hot chicks.”
“I want to get wasted.”
“I just want to dance.”

If I miss one, just let me know.

So boys … what do we do? We head to the gym, get our pump on, take a shower, trim the pubes, bathe in Lynx, put on a tight shirt and get ‘fresh’ right? From here onwards, lets do ‘pre-drinks’ to save some money and hope for the ‘best’ tonight.

Ladies, what are our reasons for hittin’ the clubs?
“I go to dance.”
“Have fun, meet boys.”
“Get wasted.”
“Enjoy myself.”

Now ladies at this point, I could list the numerous activities you have to do before heading out but it would get you tired reading the list of to-do’s before being ‘on fleek’ enough to hit ‘da clubs’.

I’ll give it a try anyway.

Take a shower, dry the hair and iron it so it gets the perfect length-volume ratio. We prepare, layer and apply the countless products that go on our face and then we ready the eyebrows and eye lashes. Should I start talking about the chicken fillets and the head to toe moisturising part or nah?

Maybe thats too much.

So us boys walk into the clubs with our boy ‘squad’ swagger and the girls walk in with their glad wrapped dresses looking sublime and unattainable.

Depending on the club, blast the appropriate genre of music ‘RnB, Hip-Hop, Bangerz, Trance and whatever else and let the games begin.

Three environments of every club: (1) The dance floor, (2) the smokers and (3) the bar. Oh and the toilet where we can excrete human waste and perform leisurely activities, whatever they may be. I’ll leave that part to your imagination.

We walk in, we see countless of faces and a few familiar ones, those of which are your lovely ‘Facebook’ friends. Lets skip the ‘hi and bye’ conversations because they never go anywhere and go straight to the dance floor.

The Dance Floor:

‘A NIGHT OUT WITH THE GIRLS’

So girls, lets get into position and coordinate our places in our VIP (gal pals only) private dance circles to live it up and enjoy ourselves when Chris Brown’s ‘Ayo’ comes on. Everythin’ is going well and our girls are sweatin’, feelin’ sexy and loving the vibe ‘in duh club’ … it’s all good and steeze until … your friendly neighbourhood ‘lurker’ pops his head around.

These are hot girls dancing in the circle.

Lurker, a.k.a. lingerer, creep, weirdo and … WAIT.

Sorry my mistake, there’s a condition to this rule. If you’re ‘good looking, cute or hot’, meaning physically favoured whereby your facial structure, jaw line or physique is preferred by the circle of women, you’re not a lurker … simply because you’ve put in enough effort at the gym and or your parents have fantastic genetics. To the demographic who aren’t aesthetically blessed, I apologise on behalf of society. Like many environments this is another arena where your personality might as well be put to sleep early because reality is no one in here cares or is going to give you a chance to voice your values, beliefs and humour above all the speakers blasting Big Sean’s ‘I Don’t Fuck With You’.

So this lurker right … he’s (because there’s never a she-lurker in the clubs) ogling one of the girls with the most cleavage and well supported push-up bra, hoping to ‘enter’ this dance circle.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

Do you hear that? Of course you don’t … because the music is too loud. That’s the circle of girl’s emergency radar going off because your ugly ass has entered their perimeters. The gal pals start sending subliminal eye messages that mutually establishes with the girls whether you’re hot enough to join the circle.

The girl you’re ogling or dancing on lets you continue your shitty dance moves with your jeans chafing against her shiny American Apparel glad-wrapped spank pants, means the girls approve and you are now welcome. If their VIP circle starts moving away from you or one of the girls pull your target away to go toilet … you know what just happened … (Exit the club and go back to the gym, because cosmetic surgery is too expensive and it’s probably not worth it).

This meme does the job — right?

CLUBBIN’ WIT ‘DA BOIZ’

Now for the boys, we congregate around the bar standing, waiting and ordering drinks that taste like engine oil hoping that consumption will alleviate the anxiety and internal bullshit that comes with approaching a ‘glamour’ to sell yourself hoping a friendship, a one night stand or girlfriend yields out of tonight’s interaction.

Once we’re done getting ‘lit’ or ‘faded’, the boys go ‘scoping’ feeling like they’re ‘hot property’. One of ‘da boys’ sees a 10/10 beautiful jewel of a woman and then this conversation begins:

A: “ BRO, that chicks hot. Get with her. ”

B: “Nah man … I got standards.”

OR “Nah … she’s probably a slut.”

OR “We’ll come back for her later.”

How many of these conversations have you had with your mates or with yourself in general? Answer: Too fucking many.

Thats why we start congregating in circles with an intimidating ‘pissed off’ face pep talking each other to talk to women right? Come on lets honest.

Here is what we’re actually thinking but don’t have the balls to say:

“She’s actually really hot and I’m too scared to talk to her”
“I haven’t nutted up enough to talk to women of that calibre”
“I need more to drink because I don’t have the balls to talk to her sober”

Lets be real boys, it’s okay to just sack up and say ‘I’m too insecure to approach her’ or ‘I’m not at that capacity in confidence to engage in a conversation with her.’

So thats the dance floor anyway. Moving on …

The Smokers:

*Sighs in relief* Finally … I can’t smell human sweat and there’s a finally a bit of fresh … wtf. Yup … that’s not air, thats human evaporated sweat mixed with passive cigarette smoke.

Ladies and gentle-uglies, here is where you can finally give rise to your personality and conversational skills. Lets make a few women laugh, where they can actually hear us and see if we can cultivate any substance of a conversation in the screen of smoke that induces cancer when you’re 30–50 years old.

The Toilet:

Lets be real, nobody likes spending too much time in here because it smells like piss and shit that’s missed the pot. You’re either in here excreting human waste or performing inappropriate activities that may or may not be incriminating to the laws and policies of your country of residence.

So readers, once again thank you for bleeding your time reading my contributions to the online space. End of the day it’s just mere words from another face and stranger among us all.

Kindest regards,

Michael Huski