11 Reasons Why The Club Is Literally Hell For Dudes
Sure, going to the club is mad fun. Unless you're a dude, that is. I'm sorry to break it to you, but we live in a dark world where there is no such thing as human camaraderie anymore; there's no goodwill.
It's a "what can you do for me" society – and the club is an even darker microcosm of this notion – in a grandiose, overpriced fashion.
As it happens, if you're a dude, you can't really "do anything" for most of the people in charge of the club, so they don't really see much point in catering to any of your needs.
Therefore, while at the club, you're treated with minimal respect – and are forced to pay extra, as a consequence.
Women may think they have it bad, but, in reality, clubs are miniature versions of hell for dudes. Here are 11 reasons why:
1. The lines.
Unless you know the promoter -- and, let’s be real here, you probably don’t – prepare to be stuck on line outside the club for the next few hours (like a hypebeast teenager ahead of a limited Supreme release).
The only thing worse than waiting outside that ghastly sweatbox all night, however, is watching the bouncer give the nod to all of the chicks YOU came with – along side a few random dudes with European haircuts and scarves who slid through the cracks, inexplicably.
2. If you don't have bottles, why are you even there?
Showing up to a club without extensive bottle service is like walking into class without a pencil or a piece of paper – except, in class, at least you can ask to borrow some from your neighbor.
In a club, on the other hand, you’ll need to lay out all of your hard-earned money so that some chick named Nikki (who went to Maryland) can stand next to the ice bucket with puppy eyes – like she just got nominated for the ALS challenge.
3. Girls call you a creep regardless of what you do.
You could literally be on your hands and knees helping some stranger find the phone she claims she's lost – it doesn’t change a damned thing.
You’ll still probably be sneered at by some random gaggle of women, and labeled a "creep" because, as we know, any extended amount of time spent on one female amounts to thirst.
I mean, within the realms of a club, you're bound to get called creepy simply because you're existing in the same place as them, so it doesn't really matter.
Thus, if you follow the main premisses of night club elementary logic: I have a penis, therefore I am a "creep." Shoutout Descartes.
4. Low-key, half the girls inside are 16.
I mean, if you want to follow a strict “ask no questions, hear no lies” policy, I guess it's not my place to judge (I'll leave that to the cops), but when you spot a chick with braces twerking over in the corner – sometimes, no questions are even necessary.
Just back away – or if you're that into her – give her your number and tell her to AOL Instant Message you in, like, 3-5 years, just to be safe.
5. Only you have to pay the cover.
Cover charges at clubs are like the douchier, sexist version of “duck, duck, goose.” For the purposes of this discussion, think of every single girl you arrive to the club with as “ducks,” and yourself as the theoretical “goose.”
As you approach the bouncer, wait for him to allow all of the “ducks” into the club, free of charge, until he gets to you – the “goose,” if you will – and grabs your shoulder.
Now, instead of having to chase anyone around a circle, your next move will be forking over a large sum of money – solely because you piss standing up.
6. The musical selection is subpar, at best.
What song is this? "Levels"? By whom? I can’t hear you. Avicii? Ohhhh, cool I haven’t heard this song since, well, the last time I was in a club.
It really shouldn’t shock you that the music selection at most clubs is atrocious, especially when considering that the kid DJing, or “spinning,” is some random kid from your high school – who was en route to law school, last you checked.
He says opting out of the law track was the best move for his career. Yet, judging by his meager Soundcloud following, that doesn't seem to be the case.
7. You're required to wear shirts with buttons.
I love how certain clubs require “dress codes,” meanwhile this doesn’t necessarily imply that you have to dress well – you pretty much just have to dress like you’re going to a bar mitzvah or some semi-formal social occasion.
If you check out the line at any club, every dude wears the same sh*t – a long sleeve Polo oxford and blue jeans. I'm serious, next time you're at the club, look around.
Nobody is dressed particularly well – everyone is just wearing shirts with buttons and blue jeans. It’s like a Catholic school uniform for kids from North Shore Long Island (oxymoron)...who all found gift cards to Macy's.
8. You'll never be able to get a bartender's attention.
Clubs are great because of their reasonable prices on shots of liquor. If you haven't sensed the sarcasm there, and throughout this entire piece, you should probably just call it a day for this one.
It's the best when you order one drink and the bartender replies – in a smug tone – "Would you like to open a tab?" OPEN A TAB?
That last shot was 40 dollars, if you opened up a “tab,” and ordered any more drinks – you’d have to sublease your f*cking apartment. As follows, you fail to tip him, and the bartender fails to look your direction for the remainder of the night.
Not that you could afford another drink, anyways.
9. You get stared at like you're a criminal at all times.
If you’re lucky enough to actually make it inside said club, prepare to attract more dirty looks than that dude in the movie theatre who can’t stop coughing.
Except, in your case, you’ll attract these filthy grimaces typically without doing anything out of line (no pun intended).
Ultimately, if you’ve got a Y chromosome in your genetic code, it won’t be long before you’re grilled like Memorial Day. Even when you're trying to talk to YOUR OWN girlfriend.
10. She won't be able to hear anything you're saying.
It doesn’t matter what type of world class game you spit to women inside the club because they won’t be able to hear a lick of what you’re saying anyway.
You could be reciting excerpts from Ryan Gosling's love letters in "The Notebook," for Christ's sake, it wouldn't increase your chances of making a good impression.
She’ll still be gesturing toward her ear every time you open your mouth, shouting, “WHAAAT? I CANT HEAR YOU.” It's very romantic, as I'm sure you can tell.
11. The club doesn't provide proper lighting to assess your "moves."
The club never provides decent lighting for you to assess any of your “moves,” so to speak.
Most of the time, I’ll spend the entire night at a club f*cking with the same chick – who I consistently refer to as a “dime” to my friends – prior to getting her home and realizing, oh, she’s not a dime, but more like a few random (pocket lint covered) pennies.
It’s for this reason car dealerships have sufficient lighting, and aren’t pitch black rooms illuminated by a giant strobe light that makes you feel like you’re about to have a seizure every time you open your eyes.
