Going to the club is always such a show. People put on the most expensive outfit in their closet, walk into a bar filled with flashing lights, and party the night away while spilling drinks on their shoes and lip-locking with random people. I’ve often wondered whether or not you could truly find love in a club? Am I paying 20 bucks for a good time? Or to find something more?
It’s hard to imagine actually meeting someone at the club that you’ll date long-term. To me it just seems like men are men and they come to the club to release their sexual frustrations or to solve them (by finding that chick to take home). 50 Cent explained the male mentality perfectly with “In Da Club”:
You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami I got the X if you into taking drugs
I’m into having sex, I ain’t into making love
So come give me a hug if you into to getting rubbed
But I don’t want to be the subject of “Hit It in the Morning”. No, sir. Walking through a club is like walking down the street—eyes peruse, chicks stare, guys quiver and the rest is history. I can never get over the fact that when he’s talking to me in the club, his eyes are half-glazed over from the third round of drinks and his gaze is somewhere below my neckline. Or that his immediate instinct when dancing with me is to grab my back, bend me over, and stand there, as if I’m supposed to know what to do next. Nightclubs always have had this weird aura with me, one that just invites me in for that much-needed escape into the weekend but promises nothing more.
A girlfriend of mine says that she found love in a club. She was working as a promoter for one of the hottest spots in town, so of course she had frequent run-ins and knew the constant party goers in the city. She also knew how to make them smile, get into the guys’ pockets, and get what she wanted. She has a gift for gab, what can I say. Some may say she’s a gold-digger or just another jump-off from the street. But she isn’t. At the time she was just a nice girl looking for love.
And she found it. At the club.
But I have a feeling it has more to do with the man than the atmosphere, although in someway the two are inversely related.
He was a nice guy—visiting from out of town and my girl had laid the charm on him. They talked most of the night, did a few dances, and he got her number. Gave her a call the next day and everything. The two have now been dating for two and half years now. Stroke of luck?
One thing I can take from my girlfriend’s example that doesn’t happen often in the club is the anatomy of conversation. There’s an inkling amount of trust in oneself that goes into chatting it up with some random strangers in a club. It won’t really happen much on the dance floor like we see in movies because the bass in the music is blaring so loud that you can’t even hear yourself think. But it could happen—at the bar. If he’s not in that catatonic state that I described earlier. However, it’s the art of conversation that can alter the systematic effects of one’s environment and make it all the more better.
I get spoken too when I go out. But it’s usually after the club. “Hey Ma, what you up to later?” No fool, you are not breathing your drunk breath all over my satin pillowcases. The hasty lemme-get-yo-number in that last minute attempt to secure a booty call for the night. But I rarely get REAL conversation. Let’s face it. Most men aren’t coming to the club to talk to me. They just want to get it in. And their looking for the chick with the shortest skirt to hit it with. In my mind, clubs simply promise a fun night and maybe a one-night stand if you’re lucky. But I have yet to go to a club and meet a single guy who genuinely wanted something more. You’re not gonna’ find your future husband in a club. Maybe someone else’s. But not yours.
Well, maybe. You can never say never right?
And that’s not to say that good men don’t go to clubs! Because there are loads—but most of them are just looking for a fun night that doesn’t exceed beyond 24 hours because they’ve got work or whatever in the morning, ish to do, which explains why they’re not already in a relationship in the first place.
But the question that leads to is if not in the club with a bottle full of ‘bub, then where? Where can you find a charming good man?