1) I’m too classy.
2) I don’t belong. I known this for years but ignored it. I’ve officially outgrown my club/lounge days.
2) Guys dance with each other. And no, this wasn’t a gay spot either.
3) #ican’t: with folks walking around the venue stuntin’. Or standing on top of a couch in the “VIP” section having your homeboy snap dozens of photos of you holding a bottle of whatever liquor some rap “artist” says is popular in one hand; while chucking the deuces with the other hand as you pretend to gaze into the distance. Tuh.
4) By the time the night’s over, I can’t feel my toes. Yeah, I know I’m a diva or whatever, but these gorgeous heels were not made to be standing in for hours. They’re hour shoes. That means they get worn mostly when you know you’ll be sitting most of the night since you can’t comfortably stand in them long periods of time.
5) My hair always gets sweated out and/or worse: reeks of smoke. Thus, resulting in me being inconvenienced from having to stay up into the wee hours of the morning washing and curling it.
Clubbing was cool from the ages of 18-26 for me, but now, as I’m a cool 29, it’s over. I feel like I’m wasting good time. Time in which I could be doing other things. Like reading, laying in bed watching Lifetime, saving money, visiting friends, dining out/in, blogging, researching what the style gods say I should wear for my 30th…painting my nails. You know, stuff like that.