I Hate Clubs and So Do You

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I like dancing to 80’s songs, preferably “Come On Eileen,” at dirty dive bars where they have $2 specials on beer. I like places that let you dance on the tables in your 10-year old Converse, where the music is loud but you can still talk to the friends there with you.

I do not like gross clubs that pride themselves on exclusivity because they make you wait on a line and charge $20 and a kidney for a weak vodka soda. I hate seeing girls wearing the same bandage dress in a rainbow of colors with chunky heels that look like they could poke someone’s eye out (READ: even though that’s what I usually wear too lol). I didn’t realize how much I despise going to clubs until a recent bachelorette outing reminded me that they literally all suck. 

The promoter led ten of us to the back of the club, setting us up with a pretty good table that overlooked the entire space. Above us was a huge screen that filled up the entire back wall with a video montage playing in loops: of girls, naked or almost, dancing around. How feminist. Eight of us sat on the leather couch, dirty with God knows what kind of germs, and two of us stood up in the small space between the couch and the table. Then the bottle service arrived: phew. The only justifying part of coming out to a club was the free booze perks that came with wearing lipstick and having curves.

Then about ten more girls filed in and I was sweating because I literally had no space to move let alone dance. I spent the night sweating (I needed to repeat that), feet aching, stone cold sober because they probably diluted our complimentary vodka with water, and making fun of every song that came on by doing a silly dance. Probably embarrassing the promoter, but whatever, because I saw him smack his girlfriend’s (?) ass and I wanted to punch him in retaliation. As I looked around at my group of friends, who more or less looked bored with the obnoxious atmosphere, I wondered if anyone actually enjoys going to clubs. And they don’t.

It’s literally impossible to enjoy yourself at a club because, if you’re me, you either go with a promoter and have to stay by him all night if you want free alcohol or you go on your lonesome and clear out your entire bank account for a *not that great/somewhat decent* time. I think that TV shows and movie glamorize club culture so much that young people force themselves to go. So I’ve decided… that I won’t anymore. Unless there’s a cool DJ performing or something. Or if it’s someone’s birthday, I guess I’ll go, too.

 

 

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