– David C.
After a swift 45 minutes in line you have now fashioned a healthy arrangement of icicles under your nuts and the vodka shots you thought would ‘get you in the mood’ before you left your apartment have worn off. You considered giving that homeless guy in a wheel-chair 5 bucks but decided to save it for lollipops and cheap after-shave in the bathroom. The majority of your compatriots in the line have formed a penguin-like huddle to keep warm and their energy-conserving silence is punctured only by contemptuous moans and hisses as each new throng of ‘VIPs’ parades through the door without so much as a murmur from the bouncer. He, by the way, is a 12-foot Ork whose face resembles an old woman’s cushion left out in the yard for cats to piss on. Once inside, the club management charges only $4 to lose your coat and sneering bartenders snatch ungratefully at your tips. Gasping for fresh air amongst the wasteland of smokers outside turns your skin grey and your eyeballs yellow but is the only reprieve you can get from the DJ’s monotonous drone and the blistering screeches of women around you. (Why is it only the ugly ones that claw at you like mummy’s from the grave?). Your attempts to bust shapes on the dance floor more closely resemble a drowning orangutan with Parkinson’s than the latest Timberlake video, and you have now lost both of your friends amongst the swarm of swaggering protein shakes with tattoos. You come to the swift conclusion that, despite the hand-towel-peddler being your only friend in this place, his bathroom lollipops are a rip-off. Stumbling outside once again, you hurl a little unintelligible abuse at the Ork-man and make for the nearest street-meat stand. As you glance down at the cocktail of salmonella, swine-flu and herpes that festers amongst your chicken kebab it begins to rain and your odds of attracting a taxi slide a little closer toward those of attracting a girl. Only three subway trains later (one broke down for 20 minutes) you are back in your decaying apartment. You empty your pockets of crumbly chewing gum sticks and that single, naïve condom and sneer at the slightly better-looking you in the mirror. With your jeans barely unbuttoned, just the thought of gathering the energy to masturbate bores you to sleep…
Why do we do it?!
The ‘nightlife’ scene of any city is the single most universally enjoyed activity for its youth. Despite every word of my anecdote ringing true to the vast majority of adolescent boys and men we continue to shed dignity by the glass-full and why? … SEX.
Girls, if you are continuing to read, don’t be alarmed – you are no different! I enjoy the friendship of many members of both sexes (and one hermaphrodite) and have noticed one thing binding them together: they party to meet the opposite sex. And what’s more, they’re pretty likely to stop partying once they’re hitched and don’t need to anymore! If you are in the anti-Darwinian minority that insists you are just there to ‘chat to your friends’, please ask yourself whether there mightn’t be a more apt location for you’re A-sexual endeavors than a throbbing nightclub.
Replace disco-ball with log-fire and you’ll recollect that we’ve been practicing this social game for around… 40,000 years – we’re just not very good at it! Of course some are better than others and I’d like to reframe the rather uninspiring image I painted for you earlier with a brighter and more vivid impression of how exciting New York nightlife can be:
You are magnetized to the radiant glow of beautifully crafted individuals gathering outside the club, and that tune that always gets you in the mood for the night. Jordan – the pleasant bouncer whose kid wants to be a basketball player – recognizes you and your two buddies and waves you straight in, along with the four lovely girls you’ve invited along from the last bar. You enjoy even the line for coat-check by chatting to an interesting guy who turns out to manage recruitment at the company you’re applying to. Now the path to million-dollar success in your career is in the bag you can return your attention to the critical matter of awesome bar games. Bright colored lights illuminate the party you’ve created just by having FUN and before you can say “where did this stick come from” you’re beating girls away with a stick. As your friends make themselves comfortable with Lilly and Amanda you spin Jennifer in closer and fend off her cheeky remarks like “so where do you live, Don Juan?” and “mmMMMMmmm”…
What changed here other than your frame of mind? Enjoying this kind of nightlife experience – or any other that suits you – is not difficult once you are in the right mindset… and when better to start than this weekend?
In New York the opportunities to socialize are limitless and their nuances and intricacies fascinate me. I am not a millionaire but I am learning quickly how to party like one, using only one tool – charisma! This is exactly what I will be writing about every Thursday to get you IN THE MOOD for the weekend. By exploring every aspect of the New York scene, I will offer tips and observations on a range of nightlife phenomena including: getting in quickly, charming the bartenders, perfecting your bar-side body language, winning free drinks and, of course… hooking up.
Until next week, Go out, Be you, Don’t worry, and HAVE FUN!!