The Beat January 2003

Well, it‘s another Sunday morning, er, afternoon and as usual I‘m recovering from the previous night‘s debauchery. I usually go out several times a week with my friends and I enjoy the opportunities I have to meet new people. However, I would prefer not to meet people who get their kicks slapping my ass on the dance floor. So listen up all y‘all who pinch, slap or grind me on the floor! The Dead Milkmen said it best, “I came here to drink, not to get laid!”

Just because I‘m single does not mean I‘m going to crawl in the sack with you. Just because you buy me a drink does not mean you can kidnap me into idle conversations about all of your good qualities. Just because the girl over there shot you down does not mean I‘m your Plan B. I‘m sure Plan C will feel the same. Just because I‘m liquored and it‘s five o‘clock doesn‘t make you anymore attractive.

Don‘t get me wrong, I understand how the meat market works, but that doesn‘t mean that I follow that route in landing a man. It‘s true that I‘ve met most of my friends and former boyfriends in some kind of watering hole. However, I met them and continued to hang out with them with the wait and see what happens mentality. And lucky for me, I‘ve got a helluva lot of great friends here that make every night a great night. Most of my friends here are guys who are either married or exclusively involved which is great for them and for me too. I relish the no strings attached kind of relationships with these men as I do the great women I spend time with.

I‘m a 28 year old who‘s already been around the block and back with the development and demise of an important relationship, which is way to big to discuss here. I‘m at the point of my life where I‘ve decided to actually enjoy my solo mission to the fullest. Should I along the way, meet Single Quality Guy Numero Uno with moderate to excellent looks, excellent education, an interesting hobby, also well travelled, highly motivated, highly social and smart, hell, I‘ll not shoot him down unless of course he‘s grinding his crotch into my backside on the dance floor. (If you fit ALL of these qualities save the latter, please make your way down to Kyungsung-Dae any given Saturday.)

I‘m all about thrill of the chase. The best time of a relationship for me was always right at the beginning (certainly not at the end). That‘s why first impressions to me are vitally important. If a guy is a drunken slovenly mess on the dance floor then puking his lungs out behind a Bongo later on, that‘s not what impresses me. If a guy walks up to me and says, “Hi, I‘m so and so, what‘s your name?” I of course would engage a conversation. This is how I make friends, and ultimately boyfriends. Of course if they have nothing interesting or intelligible to say, I‘ll go find someone who does. It‘s the nature of things.

Part of our nature is animal instinct. This is why some women ruffle and preen their feathers and go to great lengths to woo their prospective mate. Like male yaks, lions, or walruses, human males savagely tear each other apart for the opportunity to share the same watering hole as a certain female. At the same time, we are mature Homo sapiens with opposable thumbs and use language and behaviour to let our needs be known. We have the ability to communicate and feel compassion while we also have the power to offend. More often than not, acceptable animal instincts are muddled with every new 500cc ingested. Hence, drunken fistfights and touchy feely on the crowded, smoky dance floor.

All I‘m saying is that I dig my social scene at the status quo. I‘m always happy to make new buddies and dance the night away. But I would rather not have some guy spank me on the dance floor and then try to engage some freaky conversation while I‘m using the squatter and blocking his view from under the door. I find this behaviour appalling and it certainly doesn‘t score any points with me, or any new notches on the bedpost. Maybe I‘m destined to grow old with 5 cats, but I believe my thinking is a heck of a lot clearer than the beer-soaked assault on my senses I receive from Mr. Hands.