Contrary to popular belief, the dance floor is not a place for love-making. Now, I’m aware that most people who go out at night on the weekends are either actively or unconsciously hoping to meet that special someone. Someone amazing and attractive, ideally someone wealthy, heading somewhere in life, and/or an outstanding dancer. Does this mean that you should throw your lower bits at them in order to gain attention? Negative, keep that to yourself.
Thankfully (for the most part) people are semi-subtle about their desires, or at the very least not perverse, and remain respectful to other human beings.
Then there’s those that make me want to gag.
Because I always end up at straight clubs I’m literally there to dance, drink, and be merry – I don’t plan or even try to meet ladies, not that I wouldn’t like to, it’s just not really much of an option unless I want to go out alone or drive to Seattle. So when I see the girls walk in with their tight TIGHT mini skirts, five-inch heels, and drinking their blue drinks I can’t help but think (and usually say) a whore’s arrived. Shallow and judgmental? probably. Natural and reasonable response? I think so. These are the desperate ladies trying to use their sexuality to attract men in the way that women are drawn to shiny objects.
Last Saturday I was out with Erin, we were starting the party – as usual. When I looked up I saw a girl in high heels and a purple mini dress that was riding up past crotch level and her dress was starting to slide down. She was grinding on a guy who was rubbing her nipples over her dress. She seemed to take no notice on how fucking creepy that was. Eventually she got pulled away by someone and the nipple rubbing guy looked PISSED and sat down staring at the dancing people. I swear he was glaring at the dance floor from that moment until I left for a different club. I was honestly fearful of what he was capable of.
It’s normal to see a groping couple on the floor, a slutty desperate drunk chick walking around, and an aggressive male trying to get some ass – but not to that extent.
So I repeat, please save your sexy-time for your bedroom – or at least the bathroom stall.