Getting to Old for Clubbing - Wha?

Last night I went out clubbing with a couple of mates. 

I hadn't been since November so I was psyched to let my hair down and be wooed by randy, drunk men. 

I drank too much, danced terribly and pushed my way through crowds of people to get more drinks and do more dancing. 

Then it hit me - 

It's always the same. 

The same places, the same vibe, the same everything. And I was getting bored with it. 

But it wasn't the same. 

- No longer do I appreciate a grope from behind by a guy I don't know/can't see and how doesn't know (or care) who I am. 

- I'm questioning the ages of some of the men in the club, thinking they look way to young to be on a night out; even though I'm only 20 myself. 

- My brain goggles don't seem to be working as well as they used to (or maybe I've become more stuck-up) and the calibre of men nowadays wasn't as good as when I was 18. 

- While I'm a free, happy, innocent soul, who hasn't had a bad one might stand with a random club goer, the same cannot be said for some of my friends; so drinking alcohol and being in a club setting, brings back the shame and regretful feelings and instead of being happy, go-getters - they turn to depressed, shameful cherubs - who don't dance, smile and are known to cry on occasion. The clubbing mood hasn't been the same since. 

- I feel more like a babysitter now, than a young adult having a fun night out. Most of this is due to the point above. 

- Money, money, money; every time I reach for that plastic and paper my heart cries a little.

- Smaller group. When I was younger, we used to grab everyone I know, and we'd all head out - about 5 or more of us. Nowadays it's never more than three, and it's not as fun when there's not as many as you. 

For the last few times I've gone clubbing (or even just out to a pub) I've come away with more negatives than positives. 

Maybe I'm starting to get too old for that scene. Or maybe (shock horror) I've become too mature for that type of crap. 

Next time (if there is one) I'll stick to playing pool in the corner instead - yeah, I think that's a good idea.  

Being a Virgin is Making me Miss out on Some Serious Fun.

So I'm a total Single Pringle - I say it all the time, mostly complaining about it.
Guys never (and I mean NEVER) seem interested in me. And when they do, I'm not interested in them like that and I never was (nor will be).

Then on Friday I went out with friends for a birthday Friday. Let the loose morals and drinking begin! 
We hit a few bars, then ended up at the hipster bar I mentioned in May. 
We waited at the bar, when a guy stood in front of me and wished me a happy birthday (we had a birthday crown, which the Birthday Girl refused to wear, so it ended up being traded around) and we started talking. 
One of my more confident friends took over and got a free drink from it - I didn't mind, the guy was a bit older than me so I wasn't interested. 
We left the bar with a new friend - yep, the guy, let's call him Cradle Snatcher, decided to tag along with us. 
He started hitting it off with Miss Confidence as we hit dance floors, took shots, and pushed and shoved our way through the crowds. 
We then decided to go to a club notorious for old pervs, slutty women, sticky floors, and a ghost town (you don't go unless you want to die!)

I was standing at the bar (behind my friends) when Cradle Snatcher handed me a drink and we sat down. As the others joined us and began to chat, he whispered to me that I was the one he was after. That's why he started talking to me and admitted he was disappointed when Miss Confidence took over. 

Together we left the bar and as a group we hit Maccas (that's MacDonald's for my overseas readers) when some of my friends decided to go home. 
A friend and I decided to stay, waving goodbye to our other friends and Cradle Snatcher who was standing in line with them. 
My friend had a go at me - 
"Give him your number, he was into you", "You were both so cute sitting together," "He's hot, go for it."
But he was in line and we decided to walk off. 
My friend (The Pixie) was in desperate need for water, so we went back to the Hipster bar. 
On our way, a guy came up to us (from behind) and said 'wait up!"
It was Cradle Snatcher. Turns out he wasn't heading home and saying goodbye to Miss Confidence and Birthday girl before they left. 
Because we were going where we found Cradle Snatcher in the first place, he came with and went looking for his friends when we got there. 
Pixie got her water, and was chatting to some blokes when Cradle Snatcher came back. He held me close and took me back to his friends (after I grabbed The Pixie away from some old dude). 

The Pixie decided it was time to go and I agreed. I (thanks to The Pixie) gave my number to Cradle Snatcher and gave him a pash before I left. 

Now this is where my title comes into the story:- 

When I got home I received a text from Cradle Snatcher. Calling me cute, saying he wished I hadn't left and that he thought I had a smokin' bod. 
He wanted me to meet him again - right now. 
It was obvious what he wanted and to be honest I wanted it too. 
But there was one problem.
I'm a virgin. 
I'm a 20 year old virgin.
Usually it doesn't bother me - the right guy hasn't come along (probably never will, but anyway) and I haven't lost it yet. Just how it is. 

But I realised (as I flirted with Cradle Snatcher) that being a virgin is stopping me from meeting up with this guy, and having some fun. 

My virginity is holding me back. 

I'm young, free and have a great arse (thank you Mediterranean background). 
I want to go out and have fun - there's nothing wrong with that. 
But I know I don't want to lose it to anyone - especially if they're only looking for fun. 

I guess that means that there's only one option.....

Verydemotivational.com

I Went to A Hipster Bar. Just A Random Story

Something I have never mentioned is this - I don't like hipsters.

There's something about their twee, ray bans glasses and skinny jeans wearing, ironic ironing, obscure band loving personalities that I don't understand.
I don't want to get into the the revolution of the hipster, but I will say this. For a group of people who survive on the notion of being unidentifiable, it is very easy to pin-point one out. Or have they done that deliberately - to be ironic?
God, I don't know.

I think I only hate them (hate is such a strong word though) because as a normal person - well kinda - I'm supposed to not like them. Isn't that how it goes?

So it was with a cautious mind (and a body full of alcohol) that I stumbled into a bar 1am on Friday Morning. This little bar in Canberra is notoriously known to be a hipster bar - the bar for the weirdos and outcasts. I wont mention it, even if it would be a good plug (not that anyone from Canberra actually reads this, mind you).

It wasn't my plan to stumble into the bar, by the way. My friends and I were off somewhere else when we arrived outside their pub door. Someone said, "hey let's go in here," and before I knew it I was handing my ID to the bouncer.

Oh, quick story about the bouncer - as you know I celebrated my 20th birthday last Monday, and looking at my ID card, the bouncer wished me a happy birthday. He then mentioned that his birthday was also in May (go figure!) and giving me a fist bump, he let me inside.

So as you could imagine I was feeling hyped-up when  I walked inside. Straight away I could smell it. My exact thoughts were:
It smells like hipster in here. 
OK, so I don't know what a hipster is supposed to smell like, nor one of their bars. I think I was so off my face that I was looking for an excuse to bag the bar out - even if the bouncer was the best May birthday Bouncer around.

My friends and I sat on one of their couches and in less than five minutes, a tan looking guy has sat on our table. Like, I mean, literally on the table.
I can't tell you much about our conversation. Not because I can't remember it, but because he was so drunk and his speech was so slurred, I don't think anyone could understand a full sentence he said. He called me beautiful (naw, modern love story. HA!) and I was confused about the person who I couldn't understand a word from.
He didn't look like a hipster. He didn't have the glasses, the beard or moustache, the Mr. Know It All demeanour, the flannel shirt and even though he wore jeans, they weren't the skinny type; not that I was looking.

While I was talking to Mr. Tan Man the Slurred, I realised two of my friends were joined by another.
Where in the hell did he come from? 
I had no idea how long he'd been there but some other dude had made himself comfy on the couch.
I noticed our table now had 5 drinks.
One was Mr. Tan's, one must of been for this random guy - and the other three? Well this other dude must have been feeling generous that night.

I turned my attention to this new guy; we are going to call him Tattoo man. He was covered in them! I also noticed they were all inspired by the female figure. Some of which were his exes apparently. And they all were voluptuous on top - just thought I'd give you a visual.
He was talking about the human brain - complete bullsh*t. While he went on trying to impress my friends with his know how attitude, I realised we had come across a more usual figure that would be seen in this bar. I wouldn't call him a hipster, per say, more like a deadbeat who likes to smoke acid in Sydney (another one of his stories).
He had a beard thing going on, a piercing on his right eyebrow, but  I can't remember what clothes he was wearing. But his face said it all - I had come across a native bar dweller.

I looked around the bar - it was full of hipster men. They all had the costumes (sorry I mean, clothes), the beards, the old man hats, the beers (though it was a bar), the conversations of know-it-all's (I mean intellectual people) and the smell - which is unidentifiable - Oh, my, god - is that irony right there?!

I also noticed for the first time the hipster women. Two of them were standing near the bar. If I hadn't been in a hipster bar I would have thought they were lesbians (but now I'm just being a b*tch). Jeans, casual tees and short, short hair (not that those are identifiers for a lesbian, but whatever).

There was also one on another couch opposite to us. She was sprawled on the couch like she owned the place. Long dark hair, kinda tanned (but that could've been the lighting) and wearing mismatched clothes. 
She kept a close eye on the guys that walked past, and when one sat next to her, she was attentive and keen. I think she was trying to pick up, but I don't know how their minds work. 

I realise, I haven't actually talked much about the bar. Sorry. 
The bar itself was small - but I liked that. 
It was cosy (and more importantly) warm and all the odd stuff they had on the wall was interesting and fun to look at - not that I remember what they were. 
The music they played (when  I recognised what they were) were 'old-school' and ones I haven't heard in a long time. 

The bar itself was a cute and great place to hang out. The people I think, less so; but I'm biased. 

This post was to say that I have officially been to a hipster bar. And I mingled with the people who dwell there. 

Well, This Will Be Awkward. A Dinner With a Competition

Hey there. 
If this is your first time on this blog, may I just say "hi" first of all, and secondly, one thing you need to know about me, is that I'm a socially awkward person. 
For those who have read some of my previous posts, this would be apparent. 

So it's with this attribute that I freak out about tomorrow night. 
I've been invited to a party - no, that's not the bad thing. 
It's technically my friends second birthday party. She had one about a month ago, but because not many people showed up (busy lives, they have) she decided to throw another one - at a club. Not a night club, like an old people's club. 
As a Facebook event, and being fickle, I put myself down as a maybe. 
Despite throwing this party for people who couldn't come last time, it turns out that there's only going to be a few of us there anyway. 
I was talking to the Birthday Girl (well, if you could still call her that) only a few moments ago when she told me that a few of the people couldn't make it, and if I go, there will only be four of us. 

Naw, a cute, small get together.

NOPE! 

Besides me and her, there are two others (I'm great at maths), two guys.
One was her ex-boyfriend - a Bogan apparently, who can be the bit of the jealous type. I've never met him. 
Guy Two is an old school pal, and coincidentally, also an ex of the Birthday Girl. He just recently asked her out again (twice) in which he received a no (twice). He also cried about it apparently (woose). 

Talk about awkward. 

So here's where the problems start. I know that tomorrow night will be a competition of testosterone as they battle it out (over the dinner table) getting an edge over the other ex. 
Birthday Girl will secretly enjoy it. 
I will sit there, with my lasagna, wishing that it was all over. 
AWKWARD! 
There's a big part of me that will not go. I don't want to - I really don't. Because my Facebook thing is a maybe, I believe I'm in my right to turn around and say "I'm not coming." 
However, I know I'll be a crap friend if I don't go. Also it might be fun watching a Bogan and a woose fight it out over a bowl of garlic bread. 

But then there's the dancing. 

The great thing about this old people's club is the Latino beats they play to get those seniors moving. 
And so we plan to dance also. 
But it takes two to tango (not three) and I have no idea how the dancing will go. Even if we make our own dance circle, I don't think that's going to make things any less awkward. 

I'm torn. I don't know what to do, and I'm freaking out about tomorrow night. It's going to be awkward and it's going to be a competition all night. 

What would you do? Would you stay, or go? 

Have you been in a situation like this before? 

Please, let me know. I need all the advice I can get right now.