So, got the urge to go to someplace different this past Saturday night.
A place where I didn’t know anyone…not even the DJ.
I went to watch.
It’s my favourite part of being HLBB…the watching. It’s one of the many reasons I’ve gone incognito all these years. I get to see people try to date and mate from my spot in a dark corner. I get to see who’s succeeding and who…needs to read this blog more.
This is what this past Saturday night taught me…
Ready for the close up?
It could be because of my allergy to being photographed (it’s true; I break out in hives), but I swear the amount of women taking selfies in the club has increased tenfold. Yet, they’re all taking selfies…
Hot girls. In sexy outfits. Looking to preserve the moment…and not one guy offered to be the photographer. Guys. If Terry Richardson can make a career out of taking shitty photos, you can get an in with a group of girls if you offer to play the part. Think of the “funny guy” points you can earn if you time that photobomb correctly.
Bartenders are assholes. For a reason.
Loud, ear-splitting (and not so well mixed) music. Thirty people screaming in your face for a drink. Eeesh. Every time I’ve thought about getting my bartender’s licence, I’m reminded at how bad I’d be at being nice to a bunch of drunken and belligerent people.
One guy had been waiting for 15 minutes…which he embellished and extended to a half hour. I really felt for him though; at 6’3, he was kind of hard to overlook. But overlooked he was. He then started to wave money to get attention. Bad. Bad move.
The bartender instead served a high roller (with a Black Card) who was buying six shots, six chasers, six cocktails, six waters, and a few glasses of wine. Not saying that this is fair, but in a trendy nightclub/bar in a hotel? There’s no place for democracy. Sorry. Your “Bro! Bro!” routine while waving a $20 bill in the air?
You’re going to stay thirsty.
The kick a man while he’s down moment: two girls came up and asked if people were getting served at this end of the bar. The guy went on a 30-second rant about waiting for a half hour. Her response? “Well then can we get in front of you? Who waits for a half hour for a drink?” To his credit, he pointed out the guy who was before him, and me (who would’ve been after him) and said she’d have to wait. The rude girl rolled her eyes and asked if she could get in front of me.
I gave her a look. She went away.
You are NOT going to meet a nice girl in a bar. You’re not…
This is not to say that nightclubs and bars are full of degenerate people (actually, that depends on the venue). But really? When you’re going out to play, please consider the playing field and bring the right equipment.
Me: Standing at the bar. Enjoying a drink and watching the circle of girls get their single ladies dance on (thank gawd that wasn’t the song playing).
Him: watching me for a good 10 minutes. Has made three separate trips to the bar to scope me out. Hi Captain Obvious, want to stare some more? On the fourth trip, he makes his way over.
Him: Where’s your boyfriend?
Me: (blank stare)
Him: A girl like you has to have a boyfriend…
Let’s stop for a moment. This tactic, in my opinion, sucks. Has it ever worked? A woman standing alone in a nightclub on a Saturday night is a weird sight to begin with, but c’mon son…this is what you start with? What if I had said my boyfriend was in the bathroom? Or that he was the DJ? Or the giant ass bouncer standing next to me? If you’re gonna go for the play, don’t handicap yourself! Because while you’re really thinking that you’re full of flattery, what you’re really saying is this:
So. I’m a creep that’s been watching your ass for a good 10 minutes, and although I’m sure you have a boyfriend/husband, I’m going to ignore your commitment to another person and see if you’d be willing to explore the possibility of cheating on him, with me.
When I assured him that I was single, he didn’t ask why…because he thought he had succeeded with this opener (insert eye roll here). He explained that he had moved from Paris to Toronto (me: WHY?!!?), and was also out here alone in the club. But he had managed to bump into a few friends, which is why he was buying drinks. He then proceeded to tell me how it’s hard to meet a “nice girl” in Toronto, that he was a “nice guy” and wondering how to meet nice people. Oh, and that I looked like a “nice girl”.
Did I mention we were in a club on a Saturday night?
Me: (smiles, takes swig of drink) I’m not.
Guess what this guy was doing the next day? Going to church. Uh-huh…he goes to church every Sunday. Why he thought this was an appropriate topic of conversation is beyond me, really. He just threw it out there in an attempt to gain some nice guy points.
Me: (smiles, takes swig of drink) I don’t do church.
Him: that’s okay. You can be a nice person and not have to go to church.
Me: I don’t go because I don’t believe in it… (arches brow).
Him: that’s okay. I can still tell you’re a good person. How about I give you my number and we can stay in touch?
WHY is this a look? Why?
I counted no less than ten – TEN – ‘roided out guys sporting this look. This is not a good look. This look needs to stop. Four of those guys were together. They went out like this. Together. ARE YOU IN A BOY BAND? Stop it! Stop it right now!
If you’re at a loss and don’t know how to straddle that fine line between “sexy casual” and “I’m dressed for a wedding”, look to Brad Pitt. This is not a man I’d throw my panties at, but he has a damn good stylist (except for that hair). Just please. For the love of all that is good and sartorial in this world, no more vests over v-necks.