Girls’ Night Out: The not-so-good, the bad & the ‘ugh’

Most single people go out on Fridays and Saturdays. This is why I and my friend decided to head to Pretoria to celebrate the single life and scout the venue for single guys. We chose a good night. A famous Afrikaans singer was performing in a well-known venue. It was going to be legendary. But nothing in life ever exactly works the way it is supposed to, does it?

And as we surveyed the crowd of people crammed tightly into the packed venue we saw some good-looking men… who had a girlfriend close by, some ‘okay’ men who were guzzling down beer after beer and some peculiar men with Robin Hood hats. Yes, I’m serious.

We made our way to the dance floor and we were unfortunately standing behind a bride-to-be on her bachelorette evening and next to a woman in her early forties who kept bumping into us and who shouted at the artist during an introduction to his next song: “Stop talking and just f**king sing!” Classy. 

My friend was approached and had a two song sokkie experience. I stood in corner holding both our handbags bobbing along to a song I didn’t know apologizing to the 40-something-woman over blaring music, wondering, “Why the hell am I here?” Very uncomfortable I was humming the lyrics of a Billy Idol song in my head:

Oh dancing with myself
Oh dancing with myself
Well there's nothing to lose
and there's nothing to prove
I'll be dancing with myself

So, after the first set we decided to move to a different venue. All the students at the university I attend party at a place called ‘The Square’. Oh, I have many wonderful and many horrifying memories of this place from finishing my first degree. We set out and in the mood for dancing we decided to visit a club called Dropzone.

Now, as if the looks from these 19 year olds wasn’t enough of an indicator as to how out of place the two us were, we didn’t know any of the music. I was thinking to myself ‘what kind of music is this and how the hell does one dance to it sober?’ My question was soon answered as the DJ was screaming over the microphone: “Make some noise, Dropzone! How many clubs do you know who has their own resident pole dancer? Give it up!”

I was thinking, well, I know of a few strip clubs who pride themselves with pole dancers. Dear Lord, she was scantily dressed, throwing around her seductive eyes and ‘shaking what her mama gave her’. Every boy had his eyes fixed on her and I was standing there in awe thinking ‘what the hell is this?’ The horror!

My friend had a little boy approach her and they danced (or grinded) uncomfortably for about half a song. Again, I was shuffling around awkwardly by myself. I’ve been in the situation many, many times before and I saw where it was headed: a whole lot of nowhere. So we left, feeling very old.

Venue number 3: we were now back in Kempton Park. So much for ‘getting out’. Dear Lord, our last stop was the worse. My friend ran into her ex on the dance floor and we were left half hidden at the door.

I have never seen so many testosterone-laden men parading a bar like a pack of hungry, drunk wolves searching for their next kill on a Friday night. They all look exactly the same. Bodybuilder shape, jeans, a T-shirt two times too small, diamond studs in the ears and either a baseball cap or the straightened mullet. Yeah for Kempton Park!

Women notice when you stare at them like a piece of meat. Now, some girls obviously like this. I have to deduce this from how they are dressed. I hate it. I feel like some cow on auction being paraded in front of bidders. Except, no one made an offer during this whole evening and it made me feel like a substandard cow. We called it an evening.

So, it was not a successful evening. But, I suppose that in the grand scheme of things, bad evenings out aren’t such a terrible thing. In fact, they’re enormously important. They are valuable teachers. Bar-hopping, coupled with flirtation, is certainly not meant for the uninitiated.

A pub or club might be a good place to meet someone for some and I can see the possibility for making friends and then getting to know someone outside of that environment, but, it’s just not me anymore. To pretend that I enjoy these evenings is squandering valuable time and energy. I don’t enjoy going to pubs and clubs anymore, and I’m never going to be able to attract people in that situation. You need to live with your lifestyle choices and be proud of them. At least my friend and I had an awesome time reflecting on our singleness and we came up with some new ideas to enjoy ourselves but ways that are also true to who we are. I guess I just realized that I am not into techno-loving body builders.

Back when I was 20 and out for a good time, pretty much all I needed was a guy I found attractive. Now, I look at values and what he’s accomplished in life. I’m more of an adult and more adult things matter.

My friend so effectively put it: you’re going to have to deal with a lot of frogs before you find your prince. Last night, we had some old frogs, some tadpoles and some big ass bullfrogs. There sure are a lot of frogs out there so I’m telling my parents I am open to an arranged marriage if they can just find a few good candidates.

Cheers to more dating experience. The more experience I gain, the more likely I am to have clarity of what I really need!