friends, Just stuff, Life in general, Random, what I think

Why I hate nightclubs…

Fame hen weekendI had loads of fun at my mate’s Fame-themed hen weekend (I have to say that, I was co-organiser, but it happens to be true) although it did serve to remind me why my clubbing days are well and truly over. I used to love a good night out but now the sofa beckons…

Here’s why…

1) You have to pay to get in. And if you don’t like it when you do get in, there’s no refund policy or try before you buy.

2) Even if someone is shouting directly into your earhole, you still can’t hear them.

3) Random men feel it’s appropriate to dribble over you, grab your buttocks and spoon you on the dancefloor. It isn’t.

4) You have to queue for a ridiculously long time to get a drink. In this day and age where you can get the latest James Paterson novel on your kindle in three minutes flat, slow bar staff and elbow-jostling queues just doesn’t do it for me.

5) Clubs smell of incredibly sweaty armpits. The toilets smell of wee, poo and incredibly sweaty armpits.
Going to the toilet involves dodging other women’s wee, grappling for tissues in the absence of loo roll and getting scowled at by other women as you top up your lip gloss in the mirror. At the weekend, two guys were so brazen they chose the ladies loos as a good place to (potentially) pull. Helllloooo! Seriously guys, you need to try harder.

6) Women in nightclubs don’t like other women. Every other female who isn’t your friend (and sometimes even your friends count) is judged as competition for single men or a threat to happy couples and nice looking women are generally disliked most. None of this bothers me in the slightest but as a semi sober person I noticed a lot of women scowling.

7) High heels and dance floors don’t go. My trainer-hungry feet were screaming at me in pointy high heels and forced me to lean against a wall and sway for the latter part of the evening as my shoes lay idle on the floor and my bare feet dodged the spilled beer and broken glass.

8) Night clubs don’t get busy until very late. We arrived at 11.15pm and it was practically empty. 11.15pm is pushing my bedtime as it is, it’s a struggle to stay up later just to catch the crowds.

9) Leaving nightclubs is the best bit, the chance to kick off the killer heels, head towards a warm and cosy bed and maybe scoff a dirty kebab on the way. But first you have to dodge touchy-feely men, drunken shouty women and sporadic piles of sick, just to get to the taxi.

10) The reason why I used to like clubbing? I was so blind drunk that I never noticed any of the above. Maturity and sensible drinking has a side effect – awareness.

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9 Comments

  • Reply robynbateman September 26, 2011 at 3:51 pm

    No idea why my number 8 has turned into a smiley with sunglasses but hey, it’s cool.

  • Reply robynbateman September 26, 2011 at 3:51 pm

    No idea why my number 8 has turned into a smiley with sunglasses but hey, it’s cool.

  • Reply Tabitha Boydell September 26, 2011 at 7:46 pm

    Oh I totally feel the same way! It’s so true. I haven’t been to a nightclub for about 2 years!

  • Reply Tabitha Boydell September 26, 2011 at 7:46 pm

    Oh I totally feel the same way! It’s so true. I haven’t been to a nightclub for about 2 years!

  • Reply robynbateman September 27, 2011 at 7:59 am

    Yay, glad it’s not just me :0)

  • Reply Carrie Anne Walton (@Cazzdevil) September 28, 2011 at 9:23 am

    You and me Rob, twin sisters in another universe.

  • Reply Carrie Anne Walton (@Cazzdevil) September 28, 2011 at 9:23 am

    You and me Rob, twin sisters in another universe.

  • Reply Review of the year: 2011 in blog posts « Robyn's Nest December 23, 2011 at 10:06 am

    […] September I rediscovered why I hate nightclubs, had this hair disaster and started a Masters when I don’t even have a degree. Busy […]

  • Reply Review of the year: 2011 in blog posts « Robyn's Nest December 23, 2011 at 10:06 am

    […] September I rediscovered why I hate nightclubs, had this hair disaster and started a Masters when I don’t even have a degree. Busy […]

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