Sunday, January 22, 2006

Confessions on a Dance Floor

The other night, I broke one of my rules that I try to obey. I went to a club with a guy I had never met before. There have been many instances where I sit at home all day Friday or Saturday, doing nothing and feeling bored and isolated. It's usually when this happens when I will jump at any opportunity to go out. In the 20 months that I have lived here in Milwaukee, I have learned that these clubs can be just as boring if I'm not with friends as a night alone on the couch. I made the mistake and just as I predicted, I regreted it.

What made Saturday night so miserable was hanging out with a guy who practically ignored me 90% of the time. First, we went to his apartment for a pre-bar party with his roommates and some of their friends. Every guy at this party was a new face and every guy was a true fag. I probably had the deepest voice in the room and that even includes the fat fag hag. (By the way, fag hags are scary people. Something must be said about the single lone woman at a gay party, but perhaps I'll make that a rant for another day). I felt out of place for a few reasons:

#1. My hair wasn't spiked. In fact, the only product I had in my hair that night was hairspray that had been applied about 10 hours prior.

#2. I didn't refer to the others as bitches, which seems to be the accepted choice of referral. No, instead I was thinking of something far more vicious than bitch that night.

#3. The guy who brought me to that party didn't seem to want me around. He barely spoke a word to me in the car and now that we were at his party, he didn't say much at all, except offerng me a drink.

One of the rudest moments of the night probably came when one of his roommates came over to him, whispered something in his ear about me. It could have been a compliment or a vicious remark at my expense. I'm guessing it was something along the lines of a compliment since an insult would have felt easier to speak in front of the whole group. During the party, i sipped my drink in quiet, listening and watching the people around me. I noticed a few moments when the guy began to text message the fag hag sitting across the room. They were only 10 feet away, but I guess texting each other made more sense since it would be more private. Hmmmmm, I wonder if it was something about me.

At this point, I was ready to leave but we then headed to La Cage. On our way there, the car hit a patch of ice and skidded about 10feet, turning sideways. There weren't many cars around and at no time during this spin did I feel nervous. My "friend" however seemed to be shaking and decided to call his roommate and bitch and complain about how we almost died. I tried to control my laughter. I could have mentioned that going 25mph wasn't nearly fast enough to kill anybody, but by saying that, it would have meant acknowledging him.

So, to make a long story short, we went to La Cage and I got myself a drink. For an hour, I sipped my drink and listened to the music. Once again, he didn't bother to say much to me but at this point I didn't care. We left La Cage at 1:00 because he wasn't having much fun and neither was I. He dropped me off at my apartment, we said goodnight and that is that. I suppose the next time I'm at home on a Saturday, doing nothing with nobody, I should feel grateful. However, I'm sure I'll break the rule again just hoping the next time will be different.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

No matter where you go, the people you are with make the night a success or failure. You could be at the best club in the world but unless you have some stimulating social interaction (which could have different meanings depending on the individual) the night will be a bust. You could also be at the worst club and have a great time with someone you like. Just my $.02

4:15 PM, January 29, 2006  

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