Hot Topic: Why I Don't Go Clubbing Often (Anymore)

 

Last week, when I was waiting in line behind the bar of a massive club, the guy in front of me brushed his hand on another girl's ass, gently and lovingly. I thought they knew each other, but when the girl quickly looked back at me, I shook my head and threw my hands in the air as if saying "not me!" The girl looked at the sweaty and tattooed man, whose hand was still grazing her ass, and he whispered something in her ear. The girl instinctively backed away and waited for her drink on the far end of the bar. This, ladies and gentlemen, is what I don't miss about clubbing.

Let's get to it:

I have had my fair share of clubbing days, and currently I have simmered it down to perhaps once a month of nighttime escapades. I don't go out clubbing anymore simply because I don't have the energy or motivation to.  In clubs, it's all about appearances. It's what you wear that gets you in and how revealing your dress is that gets you free drinks. You become the person you want to be. Men are suave and women are flirty, and the little shot glasses are filled with regret and memories.

Clubs are the one night where you can go all out and not get judged for how fancy you look. Halloween is like the mother of all parties, and if you think girls look amazing on Friday nights then maybe you should wait until October 31st when the girls look like goddesses (or black cats). Of course, some clubs might be trashy, but there's no doubt that the girls will still dress to their nines; with fake lashes, tight dresses, heels, and hair curled to perfection. Girls will look beautiful simply because every other girl will look beautiful as well. We are implicitly trying to outdo each other in every single physical aspect. In the darkness, faces are a blur of eyeliner and red lipstick, but in the bathroom, we eye each other like a snake waiting for its prey. When I walked into the bathroom of a club last week, one girl (presumably drunk) looked at me and said, "you are so skinny! I'm so jealous!" Not knowing how to respond, I apologized. I don't really know why, either. I just felt bad for making her feel fat. 

At 15, clubs were like the forbidden library at Hogwarts. We weren't supposed to be there, but it held mystery and the promise of a good time. The only reason why I went to clubs in the beginning was because my friends went, and I didn't want to miss out on all the fun. This belief, in retrospect, was a little weird, because sometimes my friends wouldn't even remember what had happened because they completely blacked out. But nonetheless, I wanted to be there. I wanted to sit on the couch and dance on tables and see the world spin. All in good company, of course. I thought clubbing was the next level of friendship. Instead of playing with toy cars, we played with tequila. It was like a rite of passage.

But after awhile (and by that I mean a good 4 years) I realized that clubbing has become no more than establishing a name for yourself in the social scene. Clubbing had been stripped of its inherent fun and replaced with sly social networking. Showing up at a club, I would have a sense of superiority. I was there. I exist, and you all should know me because I am here. This kind of thinking was influenced by my friends, who would have a hard time sitting in one spot because they would be too busy mingling and interacting with people of different schools and ages scattered around the room. By being known, my friends showed me that who you are in this world mattered. That you know you have made it when your name rolls of the tongue of people you have never even met. Photographers take pictures of you and upload them online (if you haven't already done it yourself with a #selfie), basically stamping your face on the radar of your extended social circle. Going clubbing was like sitting front row at a designer runway show; people will know who you are merely because you were there.

I think there will come a time when you kind of get sick of all the hype surrounding clubbing. For me, that time came last year, when my then-boyfriend and I spent our precious time on weekend nights being impossibly stupid together. I began to live life without all the parties and the heels. I stopped going because there was really no point once I found the beauty in quiet weekends with a movie and good company. I got tired of comparing myself to other girls, and being compared by other girls. The only time I go clubbing now would be for large events or someone's birthday. But it's not like I would drag my ass down to the event with my brows furrowed. I would genuinely enjoy the party because now clubbing has finally returned to the act of friendship, like it was in the beginning.

I still do get sporadic invitations to go clubbing, but most of my friends know that I would decline it in order to spend some time indoors with my laptop and some takeaway. I learned to be comfortable with my invisibility and reveled in the joy of being unknown. Of course, my name would have bounced off the lips of strangers at one point or another, but I would rather live in the shadow of my negative repute than put myself on display every week. I want to reiterate that there is absolutely nothing wrong with going clubbing. It can be fun, and perhaps the act of going clubbing is not just to establish your rank on the social ladder. But I found myself in a position where clubbing had more to do with being known than having fun. Making friends in clubs were easy, because lowered inhibitions meant everyone's a potential BFF. Or at least for the night. But the friends I make in clubs rarely bloom into a full-fledged friendship. I realized that the people I meet amidst the smoky fog will only end up being a name on my Facebook newsfeed.

I still go clubbing, and I still get excited for it. So if any of my friends are reading this, I still would like to go to your parties, and I will make the most of it. Clubbing still makes one of the greatest memories and I still understand the appeal for most people. But the only difference is that now, due to the rarity of those nights, I cherish the time I spend there. I treat it as a privilege, not a habit. Going clubbing would only interest me if it was purely a night out with good friends and nothing more. Even then, I think a round of beer and ciders at a more intimate setting would fare better than shouting at each other over the bass drop. Don't think I'm not having fun without clubbing, though. Social lives can still exist without a $20 entry fee and overpriced vodka cranberries.