Saturday, February 4, 2012
I haven’t been to a dance club in a long time. I actually used to go some in college. The truth is, I really like dancing. I don’t mean the sandpaper to wood style of grinding, I mean Kevin Bacon in Footloose, just give me an abandoned warehouse and a boom box sort of dancing. Tonight, we ended up at a grinding, I’m 21 and excited to go out, sort of dance club, not for grinding purposes ourselves, but because one of our favorite bands was playing, Members Only. Members Only is an 80s tribute band and they are legitimately good, and what God fearing, patriotic American doesn’t love 80s music?
So, here we were, Saturday night at a dance club, which means that the clientele was a mix of people who like 80s cover bands, and 21 year old, my pelvis is too frictionless club goers. I have forgotten what it is like to observe dry humping club goers. I’ve always been mesmerized by them. I like to watch them like I’m a British Animal Planet narrator observing an animal attempting to find a mate in his natural habitat. Here are the happenings of the night told in this manner.
It is midnight on the crowded dance floor. One need not look far to see the human male on the prowl for a mate. Oh look, a young male is approaching now. He wears a plaid shirt and a Bass Pro Shops hat. Surely, he has wandered in from a different tribe’s territory. One can imagine he will have a difficult time with the females of this territory. The young male spots a female and approaches from behind. Placing his pelvis on her buttocks the man moves rhythmically with the music and waits to see how the female responds. With nary a glance at her suitor, the young female reaches her arm back and places it on his neck, drawing him near. Within the first four chords of Walkin’ on Sunshine, the female has turned and the two are now engaged rubbing lips and tongues together, in what the natives are known to call “making out.” Surely, we have found a match. Nature, the unpredictable maven she is, determines they are not a match as the female decides she has had enough and walks away. Undeterred, the male attempts to approach other women with his pelvic tractor beam. He is determined that on this night, he will find his mate.
Another young male has entered the scene. He is wearing a sweater, and unfortunate adult braces. However, using the cover of darkness within the club, the braces go undetected, as evidenced by the fact that he approaches the floor dancing with a surprisingly good looking female. These two are face to face with their legs intertwined. The female laughs while the male seems surprised to find himself in this situation. She is clearly testing his physical fitness and hereditary strongpoints by watching him dance. He does not show signs of tire, but she appears to eventually be disappointed. As quickly as she came, she has now left. The male is left to look down at his cranberry vodka, then around at others to make sure everyone is knows “he’s cool with the situation.” He proceeds to dance with himself.
Continuing to use his surprise from behind move, our Bass Pro male has now found himself with another female. Small grunting noises can be heard from the male as they dance, both looking forward to the band playing “Sweet Child of Mine.” In this position, the male is free to sniff the females hair as much as he wants without detection.
And now, here comes the biggest of all the males we will see in this adventure. He is of stocky build, and is older than the other males. Not dressed in traditional clubbing clothes, this male is wearing a jacket for a local school’s wrestling program. I do not want to say which one for fear of incriminating, but it’s safe to say that Jason Bourne would be cheering for this school. A drink in one hand, this cauliflower eared man, arrhythmically approaches a woman dancing with her female friends. From behind, he makes his move. The female turns and is shocked, the females in her tribe quickly form a wall of giggles shutting the male out. Seemingly unphased, he approaches another group, while nodding victoriously to his friends nearby. The female he pursues this time also is uninterested in his advances. Yes, he has physical fitness, however these females are complicated creatures and desire more. This female employs a common female tactic in the face of unwanted advances. She begins to dance with one of her female companions in the same manner as she would dance with a potential mate. There is no equivalence to this in the human male world.
Let’s check back and see how our braces male is doing. Having any success? He has moved on to another female who he is now “sucking face” with. As the night progresses, both male and female humans tend to lower their standards due to exhaustion, loneliness, alcohol, or the playing of the ballad, “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” What were once detestable others have now become suitable mates.
Bass Pro male has also moved on, he now appears to be dry humping a support pole. Currently unaware of the difference, the Bass Pro male has found a suitor that cannot reject him, and yet is a suitable substitute for his main desire: creating pelvic friction.
What is happening over here? Our wrestling male has found a female willing to rub bodies together, if not look directly at him. His shier, homelier buddies shout exaltations to him at his courting success. They raise many a glass and watch.
An hour later, nightfall has come over our humans in their mating habitat. Let’s check in to see how our males have done as the bar closes. Bass Pro male has left with a female. What is unknown is what will come of this interaction when the two walk outside, no longer to have the elixir of music and darkness oiling their romance. Braces male is now in the corner looking for his coat. He appears distraught as he is unable to find it. To him the night was a success, although he will ultimately leave alone. Tomorrow he will realize that his debit card is in his coat pocket, never to be found again. Our wrestling male seems to be mateless, evidenced by the fact that he has now engaged in another mating habitat ritual. He has found himself fighting with another male, from a different tribe. Apparently, the men bumped shoulders, which, in this habitat is grounds for a fight to the death. Lost on these human gladiators is the irony of their passionate desire to rub pelvis to buttocks with females, and their fury in barely tapping shoulders with a male.
The lights come on as “Centerfold” winds down. Other potential mates now look at each other coming to the realization of what and who they were just dancing with. The Houghtons, foreigners to this environment, walk out complaining to each other of blisters, of sore feet, and of the approaching hour they have to wake up, like humans who have already found a mate.