(no subject)
Sweat, pounding music, cologne, cheap beer, cigar and cigarette smoke, and more sweat. Grinding, darkness, flashing lights, groping hands, high heels, low cut tops, and more sweat. Doesn't sound like anything that would describe me. But last night I went out clubbing with Christy and Trevor and those are ALL things I experienced. It was SO much fun. We went to "Iguana Cantina" in Baltimore. I'm going to describe very much in detail because I don't want to forget anything.
Firstly, I wore Christy's hooker heels, which was a big mistake, but they looked good, so I guess they fulfilled their purpose. Christy drove down there around 11:00 or 11:30 and we walked in, showed our IDs and paid the cover. It was very amusing at first, because Trevor and I both sort of followed Christy around. I was so confused; I was SO out of my element. Everywhere around me were men leering, drinking, smoking, grinding, and moving onto the next girl. A girl was giving body shots and it was hot and sweaty and really gross. Christy just sort of laughed at my awkwardness and started dancing. I tried, but was SO self-conscience. I mean, here was Christy moving in ways that I didn't think were humanly possible (she was a dancer for 14 years, so she can bend and pop like nobody's business, and that's even with a broken back) and I was expected to mimic them. Plus, it was taking all of my focus to stay balanced on the .345 square inch of floor my shoes had contact with.
So there I was, with the music blaring and Christy looking so good and me feeling like a COMPLETE idiot. Christy laughed and said that the object of the game was to find someone hot, grab them, and dance. She then ran off to go do just that, and Trevor and I just sort of looked at each other. We didn't want to leave each other, because, well, that would not be wise. So after a few minutes of awkward wandering, we found Christy and she said that she had found one for me. She pointed over to a group of very hot guys (some of the few that were in the club)and sort of shoved me into the middle of them. I resumed with my pathetic pass at dancing, and one took my hand and started to dance with me.
When he said "Hello" I almost died. Why? Because it was " 'Ello". He was British!!!!!!!! It turns out his name was Mike and he was from London. We danced for a while and he pulled me over to the bar and offered me a drink. I, being the prude that I am (the police officer sitting near us didn't help), kindly refused and I asked him why he was in the States. It turns out *dramatic pause* he plays for the Reserve Soccer Team for West Ham. Now, West Ham is one of the best/well known teams in the English Premier League and he was essentially on their second string. I had about 10,000 babies right on the spot. He plays right midfielder (endurance!!!!) and was in the States for training, and to help run soccer camps for small children (awwwwww). They were stationed in Atlanta and were up in Baltimore training. He asked me if he could kiss me and I sort of playfully said "No." (I had NO idea what the fuck I was doing). He called me a tease, but affectionatly. Plus, he didn't leave so I guess he figured I would cave eventually.
We then danced some more. It's funny to look back on the times and call what people do in clubs "dancing", as compared to fox trots, waltzes, and reels. Now it's really just a lot of grinding, groping, and sweating. I was SO hot and sweaty and my feet hurt SO badly. So we went and sat down. He asked me again if he could kiss me and I said no, but sort of smiled (I'll explain in a second) and he went in for it with no struggle from me. I broke it off and we talked a bit, then danced some more. Throughout the night, his friends kept coming over and playfully making fun of him (I think it was because I was so much younger, although he did admit they all thought I was at least 20). They would whisper things to him in a really thick British accent, so I couldn't understand it. Anyway, at one point, they came over and took our picture together.
Finally, while we were dancing, the lights came up and the club was closing (odd for a club to close at 1:30 in the morning, but whatever). He asked for another kiss, which I gave and then he asked for my number. I gave him my cell phone number and wished him luck. Then, Christy drove us home and I spent the night at Christy's so the rents would not find out (yes, I did not tell them).
Later on this afternoon, I checked my phone, which was off for some reason. He had left a message thanking me for the good time and wishing me luck and saying goodbye. All in all, it was very sweet. I was floating on cloud nine the entire night. Trevor wasn't so thrilled because the 2 of them had spent their night chaparoning me (I was a rookie at this, keep in mind). It's funny: I've gone through a good third or so of my life thinking that I was ugly, boring, and plain and that I wouldn't ever get, nor deserved, any attention from the opposite sex. When I got to senior year, I knew that I was not ugly (depended on the day on whether or not I was "pretty" or not) and actually started getting some attention. I was finally asked out on dates and even initated some myself. I was treated like shit, and I treated others like shit (for that I hope I am forgiven). I know I'm probably making a much bigger deal out of it than it is, but it was so nice to actually get some attention. And to know that most of it was based on how I looked (as awkward and shallow as that sounds). Sometimes you just need reassurance that you can attract attention and not neccessarily using wit and intelligence and things of "substance" to do so. I KNOW I can be witty, I KNOW I'm smart...but it's rare to hear that you are pretty. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm vain and need to know it. So even though he was probably a) slightly drunk, b)horney as hell, c) used to British chicks, so anything would be nicer, d) looking for a young, gullible girl to get an easy lay, I prefer to think of him geniunely (atleast physically) interested.
This is such new territory for me. I'm SO bad at this game. But, I had fun playing. It's times like these that I realize how, even though I'm 18, how much of a little kid I really am.
Firstly, I wore Christy's hooker heels, which was a big mistake, but they looked good, so I guess they fulfilled their purpose. Christy drove down there around 11:00 or 11:30 and we walked in, showed our IDs and paid the cover. It was very amusing at first, because Trevor and I both sort of followed Christy around. I was so confused; I was SO out of my element. Everywhere around me were men leering, drinking, smoking, grinding, and moving onto the next girl. A girl was giving body shots and it was hot and sweaty and really gross. Christy just sort of laughed at my awkwardness and started dancing. I tried, but was SO self-conscience. I mean, here was Christy moving in ways that I didn't think were humanly possible (she was a dancer for 14 years, so she can bend and pop like nobody's business, and that's even with a broken back) and I was expected to mimic them. Plus, it was taking all of my focus to stay balanced on the .345 square inch of floor my shoes had contact with.
So there I was, with the music blaring and Christy looking so good and me feeling like a COMPLETE idiot. Christy laughed and said that the object of the game was to find someone hot, grab them, and dance. She then ran off to go do just that, and Trevor and I just sort of looked at each other. We didn't want to leave each other, because, well, that would not be wise. So after a few minutes of awkward wandering, we found Christy and she said that she had found one for me. She pointed over to a group of very hot guys (some of the few that were in the club)and sort of shoved me into the middle of them. I resumed with my pathetic pass at dancing, and one took my hand and started to dance with me.
When he said "Hello" I almost died. Why? Because it was " 'Ello". He was British!!!!!!!! It turns out his name was Mike and he was from London. We danced for a while and he pulled me over to the bar and offered me a drink. I, being the prude that I am (the police officer sitting near us didn't help), kindly refused and I asked him why he was in the States. It turns out *dramatic pause* he plays for the Reserve Soccer Team for West Ham. Now, West Ham is one of the best/well known teams in the English Premier League and he was essentially on their second string. I had about 10,000 babies right on the spot. He plays right midfielder (endurance!!!!) and was in the States for training, and to help run soccer camps for small children (awwwwww). They were stationed in Atlanta and were up in Baltimore training. He asked me if he could kiss me and I sort of playfully said "No." (I had NO idea what the fuck I was doing). He called me a tease, but affectionatly. Plus, he didn't leave so I guess he figured I would cave eventually.
We then danced some more. It's funny to look back on the times and call what people do in clubs "dancing", as compared to fox trots, waltzes, and reels. Now it's really just a lot of grinding, groping, and sweating. I was SO hot and sweaty and my feet hurt SO badly. So we went and sat down. He asked me again if he could kiss me and I said no, but sort of smiled (I'll explain in a second) and he went in for it with no struggle from me. I broke it off and we talked a bit, then danced some more. Throughout the night, his friends kept coming over and playfully making fun of him (I think it was because I was so much younger, although he did admit they all thought I was at least 20). They would whisper things to him in a really thick British accent, so I couldn't understand it. Anyway, at one point, they came over and took our picture together.
Finally, while we were dancing, the lights came up and the club was closing (odd for a club to close at 1:30 in the morning, but whatever). He asked for another kiss, which I gave and then he asked for my number. I gave him my cell phone number and wished him luck. Then, Christy drove us home and I spent the night at Christy's so the rents would not find out (yes, I did not tell them).
Later on this afternoon, I checked my phone, which was off for some reason. He had left a message thanking me for the good time and wishing me luck and saying goodbye. All in all, it was very sweet. I was floating on cloud nine the entire night. Trevor wasn't so thrilled because the 2 of them had spent their night chaparoning me (I was a rookie at this, keep in mind). It's funny: I've gone through a good third or so of my life thinking that I was ugly, boring, and plain and that I wouldn't ever get, nor deserved, any attention from the opposite sex. When I got to senior year, I knew that I was not ugly (depended on the day on whether or not I was "pretty" or not) and actually started getting some attention. I was finally asked out on dates and even initated some myself. I was treated like shit, and I treated others like shit (for that I hope I am forgiven). I know I'm probably making a much bigger deal out of it than it is, but it was so nice to actually get some attention. And to know that most of it was based on how I looked (as awkward and shallow as that sounds). Sometimes you just need reassurance that you can attract attention and not neccessarily using wit and intelligence and things of "substance" to do so. I KNOW I can be witty, I KNOW I'm smart...but it's rare to hear that you are pretty. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm vain and need to know it. So even though he was probably a) slightly drunk, b)horney as hell, c) used to British chicks, so anything would be nicer, d) looking for a young, gullible girl to get an easy lay, I prefer to think of him geniunely (atleast physically) interested.
This is such new territory for me. I'm SO bad at this game. But, I had fun playing. It's times like these that I realize how, even though I'm 18, how much of a little kid I really am.