Why I Hate Clubbing

We went out yesterday to a motown night at a club. At the beginning, there were 5 of us, dancing and having a good time. However, as the evening wore on, this is a sample of my internal monologue:

To the guy dancing slightly too close: Fuck off out of my personal space with your awful dancing. Yes, you. I mean it. Turning my back on you is a fairly good indication I don’t want to dance. Maybe not. Fuck off. My back is still turned. Leave me alone. Jesus. What the hell is wrong with you?

And on and on.

Later, a guy came up and asked me to dance so his friend could dance/make out with my friend. I knew that was why he’d asked, his friend had made it pretty obvious. So I told him – because I was drunk/tied/pissed off by the sleazy guys in the club – I’d not hold hands, and I’d not make out, and I’d only dance if he proved he was a good dancer. He accepted with good grace, so we had a bit of a dance off, and then we danced, and talked and danced some more. At the end, a friend of his came up and the guy I’d been dancing with explained my rules. I said that I hadn’t come out to make out with some random stranger, to which the guys friend replied “then why would you come out?” And THAT is why I hate clubbing. The fact that I go out to dance is irrelevant, because the guys in the club think I’m there to make out with them.

It’s so tiresome. I don’t want to spend my nights having my personal space invaded my drunk guys with a sense of entitlement. I want to dance. In my own space. If you would like to dance with me, than dance – don’t be a sleaze-ball all over the place – it is SO unappealing. And it shouldn’t have to take me spelling it out to some guy for him to understand that.

…Perhaps I should laminate a set of rules and stick it to my forehead, saves me having the same inane conversation multiple times…

 

Gah. Rant over.

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May in Montreal

This could end up being a super long rambling post, but I’m fairly certain you guys would lose interest after a while, so I’m going to keep it short.

Exams are done – schools out! The weather is SO good, every day has been consistently above 20 for the past week I think = tans/sunburn! Montrealers have come out with summer clothes and smiles on their faces. Mont Royal is always covered with groups of people drinking and laughing and having a good time. We’ve had our share of that too, but we also left the city! Here’s a little breakdown:

Late to leave Montreal. Big backpacks, squeaky bikes, BIG smiles.

25 degrees, and 11 people = slow going! Water breaks, suncream breaks, food breaks.

Arrival. Food, tents, beach. COLD water, Frisbee, slacklines, yoga.

Food. Cooked over/in the fire – potatoes with butter and salt (I don’t think they can possibly taste better than when roasted in an open fire!), corn on the cob, chilli and couscous, pineapple, marshmallows, brownies (they didn’t go in the fire…). General consensus: food cooked and eaten outside communally is the best kind of food.

Up for the sunrise for some, leisurely breakfast, back to the beach. Swimming, bananagrams, more Frisbee, more sunburn.

Then off. Foiled plans (next time, we need to check when the ferry starts running in the summer…), more squeaky bikes, fewer breaks this time, except for icecream. Back to the city as the sun is setting.

Kim-Ly used the word euphoric to describe it. I am speaking for all of us here, but I think it’s pretty accurate!

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And since then? Goodbyes (booo. I hate goodbyes), packing, sleepovers, wine, frozen yoghurt, poutine, boring errands and sorting of stuff. Talking of which, I need to go! That laundry isn’t going to do itself.