My initiation to the club

Last night I donned an unnecessarily pointy pair of shoes and ventured into an alien territory. A land where late evening and early morning are one and the same. A realm where the notion of personal space ceases to exist and overpriced drinks are served from plastic cups. An environment where conversation is impossible so one interacts through the medium of suggestive dance…

You get the picture. I went clubbing for the first time. And when I say ventured into alien territory, I really mean staggered onto a sticky dance floor, after negotiating my way around synchronised ‘slut drops’, cradling a flimsy cupful of vodka and something energy-enhancing. Unlike one of my friends in particular, I can recall the night and so will report on my maiden experience here.

First allow me to comment on my fellow club-goers. I must say they were all rather attractive. Although I suspect the smokescreen and alcohol-induced haze may have influenced this opinion… Their other noticeable quality was what I will describe as a “predatory nature”. And I am not just referring to the guys there. I very much got the feeling as the various groups mingled, with the most outgoing drifting alone, that everyone was competitively weighing each other up. The guys seemed to be self-consciously comparing awkward dance moves, while the guys and girls negotiated without words a mutually acceptable proximity and intimacy. Not to mention of course the newly acquainted couples acquainting themselves with each other’s faces along the stairwell and outside the toilets.

There is one endearing quality I must credit amongst the club-going type. When you find yourself outside at 3:00am with a friend who is sprawled on the pavement after half a dozen too many jägerbombs (let’s leave the details as sparse as that, there will be no naming and shaming here) many a stranger will come over to check he is alright. When you inform them he is not quite at his best they then proceed to offer you their conflicting advice as to the position you should prop him into, and even provide a bottle of water. The only decent conversation I had all night was with a lovely girl who empathically assured my friend that “it happens to the best of us”.

I do not keenly await my turn – but bring on Freshers!



  1. It was indeed quite an… odd experience. Vaguely enjoyable, but my sympathy goes out to people who go out every other night to do this. Much prefer house parties.

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