Nightclub II

Let me tell you more about Nightclubs. A couple of days ago we talked about the concentric circle which make up the Darwinian dream which is the nightclub. We left the picture unfinished, however. There are two circles remaining--the widest and saddest two circles in the whole realm. In fact, these two could be compressed into one, but . . .

Just outside of the Oh-My-God-Get-A-Room-Couples, lies the Enthusiastic-but-Perpetually-Hunting-Single-Male. Yes, that male, that came with a friend or two, or maybe not, who has decided that this is his night. He is going to score, pull, insert hunting phrase here. What does he look like? Let me paint a picture. Giving it a go on the dance floor. Probably not the best dancer, probably not the most coordinated. Moving. Moving, always moving. In and out; scouting, gazing, looking for new prey. One bottle of beer. One bottle of beer in three hours. If one hand is occupied with a beer he has less a. one less limb to coordinate with the rest of his body and b. a momentary means of looking busy. Now this sort of guy doesn't always have to be a total loser, but there is a good chance. It is not easy being male on the dance floor. Dane Cook is the master on this topic, check this out to be enlightened on the male and female art of dancing. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K0s16iusy2g

This brings us to the final concentric circle. This breed hovers on the outskirts, stationary. They are the most depressing lot and the most resigned to not having a good time. Yes, the I-am-going-to-stand-here-tap-one-foot-bob-my-head-and-pretend-I-am-having-fun males. They want to meet a potential mate. They want to be the Alpha male. But, they are stuck. Yes, just as their cousins in the previous circle, beer in hand they scour. Watch them--always pretending to be intensely looking at someone or something, like they are occupied or busy or cool.

Notice, now that we have reached the outside of the Futileship of the Ring of concentric circles that the nubile, available, albeit angst ridden, females of the species are huddled in the middle. The single, hunting males on the very periphery. The sociology of it all is stacked against them.

But, sometimes, on those magical nights, when the stars are aligned, the beer cold, the music way too loud, and the sweat intoxicating, it happens. And that is why they keep going.

I love living.



Keep it real,