It was one of those random Saturday nights that just naturally unfolds. After dinner and drinks in Chelsea with my girlfriends, we decided that we wanted to go dancing. We piled into a cab and ten minutes later we were on the Lower East Side, making our way into one of those dance spots that’s super popular even though there’s no sign on the door.
The DJ was rockin’ it and we’d had our share of cocktails, so caution was being thrown to the wind. As per usual, there were moments when I felt like I was the only one who wasn’t being approached by guys, but I was too tipsy to care. The bass was pounding and I was having my own dance party when Beyonce’s “Get Me Bodied” came on. That song has become sort of a theme song among my girlfriends and immediately we were huddled together doing the UH oh, UH oh, UH oh no no no.
I could feel someone watching me and when I looked up, one of the bouncers gave me a smile and a nod.
Maybe I watched that Studio 54 movie too many times (Ryan Phillippe, anyone?) but I was always afraid that some bouncer would stop me on my way into a club and tell me that I was too fat to be there. But ever since Kenzie and I acquired those fake ID’s, the opposite has been the case. I’ve attended birthday parties at clubs where there was a cover, but I got in for free because of a bouncer who thought I was cute. I’ve also had bouncers corner me on my way out of the ladies room to ask for my number.
It can be flattering… but its mostly frustrating.
While my friends are being publicly hit on by brokers and bankers, I’m privately being approached by bouncers. More often than not, a bouncer will slide up beside me and discreetly ask me my name so that he wont get in trouble. 99% of the time, I’m not interested, but if I do decide to converse with them, they’re constantly looking over my shoulder to see if their manager is walking by. I understand that they approach me with discretion because they’re they’re not supposed to be fraternizing with the patrons, but it makes me feel like a secret or something. Not to mention the fact that they probably do this every single weekend to every PSP who comes in to dance.
I’ve had bouncers hit on me in bars, clubs, lounges, Dave and Busters and at the BBW parties, so its definitely a pattern in my life. Although, its getting old.
If a tall muscular man in a black suit is going to tell me I’m beautiful, I want him to follow that up with a drink, a dance and some conversation. I don’t want him to spend the rest of the night standing on the wall staring at me without moving.