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I went out dancing and the abyss of mankind opened up and swallowed me

Today is my birthday. Well, technically it is now 6am on the morning after my birthday. But I haven't gone to bed yet, so it's totally still my birthday. Shush.

I hadn't been dancing in literal years (I think the last time was probably two New Years Eves ago) and I don't know why it overcame me that I wanted to go dancing tonight, but it was probably something about how I made a pact with myself that 2016 is going to be my year. Because all other years previously have not been my years. At all. So I want to take more chances, go on more adventures. Like, say, go dancing, by myself. Because you gotta start small, right?

Now, I live in a pretty provincial town, but we do have like two good clubs. And one of them was hosting a '30+' party tonight (tailored to people over 30, which I am, so I thought this could be fun). These parties are pretty notorious in the area for having good DJs and three dance floors all playing different musical genres, so they are always PACKED. I arrive at the club shortly after 11pm and after I hand my coat over to the (very cute) coat check person, I pretty much get straight to dancing. That's what I'm there for. Cue the song 'Dancehall Queen' by my girl Robyn and you will basically know what I'm talking about ;-)

For the first hour or so, things are pretty great. (I mean, what is with provincial discos and smoke/fog machines, like, chill the fuck out with those, they're awful and make my eyes water) The DJ in the room I'm in has a perfect gauge for his audience and keeps playing 90s dance and pop songs. And if you've never seen a room full of German people in their 30s and 40s completely lose their DAMN MINDS to ‘The Vengabus is Coming’, then you haven't lived. To be honest.

Then, things start to get weird. This blog post is, in essence, a story of four men. I will tell you about these four men in the order in which I encountered them tonight and because I love alliterations, I will be calling these men Worst, Wasted, Welcome and Wheels.

Now, Worst is a man who lives up to his name. I first notice him when he's dancing up on a girl who CLEARLY is not feeling it. Now, this guy, he's drunk or high or otherwise impaired (glazed over eyes, unsteady walk), but that does not excuse any of what he does next. He keeps dancing closer and closer to this girl and everyone around them can see that she's trying to get away from him. Worst, though, Worst doesn't notice this. Or doesn't want to notice. So he becomes more and more pushy. Until his creep factor shoots up to level 1000 and he grabs the girl from behind, puts his arm around her neck and she yells something to the effect of 'what the fuck!'. This is obviously my cue, because I am dancing literally right there, so I take a step forward, arm outstreched, and push Worst away. Hard. He immediately comes back. So I place myself, arms still in front of me, between Worst and the girl. The girl leans into me and whispers 'thank you' and makes her way off the dance floor. Later I see her getting down with a hot guy who's a GREAT dancer, so get it, girl!

Worst is not done yet, though. He has now been clocked by me and by several other people who keep watching him vigilantly, but he just does. not. stop. I mean, I am still trying to dance and enjoy my night, so just as I'm basking in the vocal stylings of the best BSB song (Get Down – fight me!), I see Worst again. This time he is grinding up on a girl from behind, but this girl – aha – this girl is not alone. She has a friend with her. So the friend grabs the other girl and takes her away from Worst. Worst tries to follow. Literally three dudes deliberately block his way so he can't follow her. Props to these dudes. You are good dudes.

I keep seeing Worst throughout the night. He is *always* either almost falling over or trying to get up in some girl's grill. Then finally we are dancing close to each other again and he tries something with the girl next to me, who immediately leaves, so he comes over to me. Now. Dude. I fucking pushed you away already once tonight, so don't test me. He does though. He is not called Worst for no reason. He comes to me and breathes on me and I almost wanna fucking vomit, so I fucking push him again. And he's a slight little thing, so I am essentially Steve Rogers in this moment. He basically goes flying. I literally push him back a good meter or so and fucking leave the dance floor for a moment and buy a ridiculously overpriced bottle of water at the bar to calm myself down. I keep seeing Worst right up until I leave the club. But I don't catch him doing any shit anymore.

Worst is the worst. Don't be like Worst.

I also don't encounter any more people as bad as Worst. There is one guy who tells me I am "a good dancer for a fat girl", but the fact that this jerkwad doesn't even rate as one of the most noteworthy people I encountered tonight should tell you something.

I dance for almost 4 hours. Because the music is boss and I know all the lyrics and I am wearing my favorite dress and brand new colorful tights that I fucking love. The music and the club are not the problem. The problem are men. Why are men? Seriously.

At 3am, I leave the club and start making my way home. I notice a guy also leaving at the same time, and this, my friends, is Wasted. Wasted is, true to his name, completely fucking wasted. I would go so far as to say that he is almost blackout drunk and only some kind of force of nature is keeping him upright. Well, upright-ish. He sways and walks unsteadily and he is a goddamn MESS. He can't place one step in front of the other without changing directions, he is basically swaying in the wind. Wasted is walking the same way I'm walking (at least he’s trying to), so I ask him whether he's ok to get home. He says something to me, but god knows what, because his speech is slurred beyond recognition. I walk in the direction of the main station, city center, with the intention of finding out whether the 6€ I have left in my wallet will buy me a cab home (spoiler alert: they don't). Wasted is walking the same way. So I slow my walk down and keep an eye on him. I also ask him again whether he is ABSOLUTELY SURE that he's ok to get home and whether he's aware he hasn't taken one step in a straight line all the way. He says something that sounds like 'I'm fine' and the next time I look behind me, he is gone, turned into a side street probably. I am a bit worried about Wasted, you guys. I hope he got home safe.

Don't be like Wasted. Or if you want to be like Wasted, at least get a friend to pick you up or pack enough money to get a cab.

When I reach the taxi stand, my own advice comes back to haunt me, because, it turns out, I didn't pack enough money to get a cab home. I ask a cab driver whether 6€ gets me anywhere near where I need to be and he tells me 'no, that's at least 10€', so I have no other choice but to walk. Buses don't go anymore at this time, because I did mention the provincial town thing, yeah?

This is when I encounter Welcome (you can tell I was struggling with a postive W word, but Welcome works, because he was a welcome surprise). I sit down on a bench because my feet are killing me at this point. I mean, I’m wearing flats, but consider this: I just danced for 4 hours and I am not used to physical exertion of any kind (#couchpotatolife). So I actually would rather chop them off. But I still have to walk all the way home. So I sit on this bench for a breather and Welcome comes to me and asks me for the time (it's 3.27am when he asks me that, so I tell him that). Then he tells me he likes my tights. SOMEONE FUCKING APPRECIATES MY EPIC TIGHTS, THIS IS A BIG DEAL OK!? "I've been admiring them since I saw you walking here", he says, which is just nice, ok? And so thoroughly un-creepy, I almost don't believe it with the night I'm having lol. I thank him. He then asks me whether I would like some company. He says it exactly like that, "would you like some company?" and I think maybe he is a time traveller from the 18th century. I say 'No sorry, my feet are killing me and I really want to get home'. To which he says,  'Ok no problem, get home safely'. And then he leaves. HE LEAVES. This, if you're paying attention, is how you should react when a girl tells you she doesn't want your company. You say 'ok no biggie' and get on with your day. I mean, I know this is the embodiment of 'minimum human decency' and you shouldn't get a medal for it, but tonight this guy deserves a fucking medal.

Welcome is nice. Be like Welcome.

So then I walk the fuck home. It's far. The walk home takes me an hour. I know this because it was 3:27am when I told Welcome the time and it was 4:34am when I turned the key in the lock of my apartment. I walk along well-lit main streets and don't take any shortcuts at this time of night and also my feet are ON ACTUAL FIRE, so I walk slowly. When I'm pretty much exactly halfway home, a car pops up besides me. It had come from a side street and the driver sees me walking there, all on my own, no one else even remotely in sight and turns his window down to talk to me. This is Wheels. He says 'Can I drive you home?' and hahahahahaha, fuck no, random stranger, I don't want to become the inspiration for a Law & Order: SVU episode, so I say 'No thank you' and keep walking.

He says 'Don't worry, I don't eat people'. Which is terrifying. Because someone who says 'Don't worry, I don't eat people' DEFINITELY fucking eats people. So I say 'No really, it's fine, I don't have far to go'. Which is a lie. But Wheels fucking eats people, so I actually try to speed up (WITH FEET ON ACTUAL FIRE) and it's hard, but I fucking do it because I have to. When I hear the car driving off behind me, I breathe a sigh of relief.

I get into my apartment at 4:34am. I take my shoes off, I open my laptop and I write this shit down. And this is where we are now.

You know, I wish tonight could have been about the women instead. Like the woman who alerted me when my dress had hiked itself up on my bag and you could see my tights-clad butt for a second. Or the two girls who were making out with each other the entire night (heart eyes, you guys, heart eyes). Or the proudly weird older lady in a wool sweater dancing out of tune in joyful abandon.

But no, tonight was about men. Four men, three of which were complete, awful messes. (Wasted didn't actually display any character faults other than the Wasted-ness, but he was being a hazard to traffic – he kept stumbling into the road – and he made me worried, so he does not get away scot free).  Why are men? And why are men on my fucking birthday!?

I actually had a really nice, lovely birthday. I dyed my hair blonde and it looks cute and my mom got me an adult coloring book as a present and my brother's birthday call lasted an hour and my friends all left thoughtful comments for me and are the actual best. But this weird night put a bit of a damper on things. I am a bit of a hermit and don't go out much, so it's quite ironic in an annoying, probably incorrect Alanis Morrisette-ish use of the word, that my first night out in actual ages turned into a bit of a disaster. I mean, it has not put me off dancing or going to clubs. But I sure am telling you one thing, I think next time I'm gonna talk a friend into coming with me, whether they want to or not tbh. I went out dancing and the abyss of mankind opened up and swallowed me. But I'm fine. I'm home. I'm about to go to sleep and tomorrow I will be SO SORE OMG.

If you read this entire thing, you deserve a cookie. Thank you and good night.

[stockholmsyndromeinmysery]

[stockholmsyndromeinmysery]

There is no biblical evidence that Jesus even knew how to parallel park. Letting him take the wheel seems a bit irresponsible.

[stockholmsyndromeinmysery]

Based on this text post by @controlledeuphoria. Illustration by Dami Lee.

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www.ladiesgoodhealthmag.com/sex-relationships/867599904/9432&20.html

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[stockholmsyndromeinmysery]

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sense8 meme  ∞  the eight sensates: Nomi Marks  — “Their violence was petty and ignorant, but ultimately it was true to who they were. The real violence, the violence that i realized was unforgiveable, was the violence that we do to ourselves, when we’re too afraid to be who we really are.”