...Lust at a $7 cover charge

Ahhh, the Palace. La Palaci. Last chance for Romance. Lust at the price of a $7 cover and a couple of glasses of cheap alcohol.

So why did I go there last night? Not to pick up, for sure. To ogle guys? To be ogled by guys? To have that brief contact with someone purely on the basis that he is male and I am female? At one time these reasons would have worked, back in the tender days of being 19 and fresh in a club (I shudder at the thought). But not now. So why do I go? Why did I drink half a bottle of wine last night, get dressed up in my heels, put on mascara and gloss, and then catch a bus to that very place? I honestly do not have an answer to that.

In the beginning I needed the confidence it gave me - guys hit on the hot girls, and somehow I always got hit on. But thats not me now, I'm so past that - being hot or not isn't an issue anymore, and besides, guys at a club will hit on just about anything. This discovered knowledge didn't stop me from going out and doing stupid stuff. Instead I went under the pretense that I wanted to go dancing. The music was worth the rest of the crap one had to put up with while out. And I do love shaking my booty on the dance floor. Pony, Peaches&Cream, Bootylicious... The songs get my hips movin. I'd be on the dance floor all night, whiskey in hand, avoiding eye-contact with the drunk guy next to me; his hands too, as was often the case. It worked fine for a long time--aside from the occasional "Get Lost" I had a great time. Until something changed. Maybe it was the music, we steered away from the pounding bass and sexy lyrics to the down right dirty bump-and-grind action. Catering to the people, and the people wanted music to grind to. The People, excluding me. I've grown way above bumping and grinding on a dance floor. Except, if my reason for going out was to dance, and now I don't even like the dancing action on the floor, why do I still go out?

I cant fathom it. Last night was, to be honest, terrifically boring. Sure, I checked out some guys, got checked out, had a few laughs. But did I really need to go through all the crap to get there??? It's not worth it. Not at the palace anyways. I don't really desire to see a bunch of half dressed teenagers having sex on a dance floor because they're too drunk to see straight. Makes me sick sometimes. Its not that I'm so much older or better than them. I was there! Not even a whole year ago. Its sad really. I love getting dressed up, I love wine and gin and heels and earrings. I love walking with confidence through a crowd. Getting drinks at the bar and flirting with the bartender. But I don't love getting my ass grabbed by some drunk buffoon who has lost all the manners his momma gave him (or didn't, as may be the case). I don't love feeling sad because some poor girl could be making the biggest mistake. Because some guy is making the same mistake. Because we are told that its ok. Because our society is so centered on things like looking good and getting laid. Because I support all this crap by being there.

I suppose we all grow up eventually. I hope we all do. I haven't seen a whole lot of convincing evidence, but there must come an age and maturity when we're above it all. When a classy bar with martinis, or an easy pub and beer, or a couch and some friends, looks a hundred times better than having the drink you just spent 6 bucks on spilt down the cleavage of a shirt you really shouldn't be wearing. When we come to realize that there's more to going out and having a good time than just getting laid. That having a guy hit on you for your boobs (or ass or drunken state) is degrading, not flattering. We are so much more than that--why do we settle for less?

I might not be there yet--I'll still go back to the Palace (or Dome or Rain or wherever). But the time is coming like a whirlwind when I'll see that I've got better things to do with my time then shake my ass with the rest of my drunken peers.