Saturday, March 8, 2008
Drunken Blog Post Number...whatever...
Just got in. Not really drunk, just a little tipsy still. But had to write.
First of all, I have to say that I’m beginning to REALLY dislike the taste of alcohol. It’s never been something I’ve enjoyed, but with each passing Friday, it’s becoming less and less my friend. Yick.
Secondly…word to the wise…if you see me on the dance floor with my eyes closed, groovin’ in my own little world, it’s:
a) not an invitation to come and dance with me
b) not a ploy to get attention
c) not an opportunity for you and your punk ass friend to house me in some sort of drunken ménage a trois
Basically, it means “fuck off, I’m enjoying dancing on my own and prefer it that way”. There, enough said.
I still don’t get the whole club/bar culture. What makes people try to have conversations while inebriated and drowned out by blaring music? If I want to know your name, how old you are, what you do for work/where you go to school, I’d pick you up at Starbuck’s and we’d chat over Caramel Macchiato’s. I come to the club to dance. So shut the fuck up and show me your moves. If not, leave me to close my eyes and drift off into danceland where every night is Friday night and the bar never has a last call.
Not sure what was up tonight but two fights broke out on the dance floor. Never seen this before. The first time, I got body checked by some loser. The second time, my girlfriend got a drink thrown in her eye. Fortunately the bouncers did their thang and the night resumed as usual. Two very tall guys intervened and shielded us from the first brawl. I must say it felt nice to be protected. There’s something about being held in a taller man’s arms that’s reassuring. Is there something evolutionary to that? I wonder. In the past, anytime I’ve dated a shorter guy I’ve never felt protected. It may be just my illusion but it felt nice just the same.
The highlight for me tonight? Walking home in the freshly fallen snow, listening to the silence of the city covered in a white blanket, feeling that, in spite of myself, life may just be worth living after all.
at 3:19 AM