Boys are weird. I mean that in the nicest way possible.
. . . generally.
I just don't understand them sometimes. Usually I can figure out what's going through their minds (at least as much as I want to, but let's ignore that particular field of land mines, shall we?) My confusion is about boys in clubs, which is probably not the best example of prime gentlemanly specimens.
See, last Saturday Andra, Anna, and I went out to a club in the city again.
Here we are after getting ready in my room.
We had a blast!
Anyhoo, back to the point. Boys at clubs.
Why Boys at Clubs are Weird and Sometimes Creepy Point the First:
They do not appear to understand the words, "No, thanks." It doesn't matter if you're telling a guy who just grabbed your hand to try and dance with you, or if you're turning down a drink, they will offer again and again.
For example, last time, after I told this short dude I didn't want to dance multiple times, even having to come up with reasons when he demanded to know why, he GRABBED MY ARM when I passed by him to go to the bathroom. Not the understandable kind of grab where it's to get your attention because it's loud in here, no, I mean the kind where I was jerked backwards because he grabbed it so hard. So I'm trying to shove my dislocated shoulder back into place, and he leans forward to shout in my ear, "Where ya goin'?!" I gave him my most withering glare and said shortly, "I have to pee."
(Here I am hugging (propositioning?) Anna, even before my vodka cranberry that is much more expensive than I realized because it was after 11pm and that's apparently when prices go up, yikes-a-doodle.)
Why Boys at Clubs are Weird and Sometimes Creepy Point the Second:
The term "boyfriend" mysteriously loses it's meaning. Suddenly, instead of, "I have a boyfriend, no thanks," meaning exactly that, it means "Why yes I'm interested, feel free to make a pass!"
Example: a guy from Romania tried to buy me a drink, asked me a bunch of questions when we were taking a break at the bar, followed us to the stage and danced with me--hands attempting to go places they're most definitely not allowed--and then after we escaped found us at the other side of the club and sat next to me for another ten minutes or so, invited me to San Francisco to go clubbing with him, tried to give me a back rub, and tried and failed to dance with me again. He did all this after I told him that I had a boyfriend, and that his time would be better spent hitting on someone single. At one point I was so frustrated I told him, "I really do have a boyfriend! I'm not making this up, I swear!"
Why Boys at Clubs are Weird and Sometimes Creepy Point the ThirdFourthFifthGAHIGIVEUP:
Why would you try to pick up a girl at a club? (Don't answer please).
There are creepy old dudes (Quentin calls them "creepers") that walk around and stare and try to dance with you. EW, I am decades younger!
Don't ask me my age. I'm wearing a wrist band that means I'm older than 21. Yes, I can drink. No, I don't want you to buy me one. Shoo.
Why ask my name? Does it matter? Will we run into each other on the street? WARNING: I may make up a dumb stripper name if you ask for mine.
KEEP. YOUR. HANDS. TO. YOURSELF. I have nails and I know how to use them.
I do have an awesome time dancing with my girls though! Cheers, ladies!
P.S. Jeans next time! (I mean it this time, I swear.)