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.  

Seeking Shelter at the Hipster Bar

Despite my small town, we have more than a few places that cater for the Hipster crowd. 
One of these is known simply as the Hipster Bar - I've mentioned the place in certain posts before. 
On Saturday I went there again. 
It was 11 O'clock. Waiting for other friends to show up, the Pixie and I decided to go to the Hipster Bar and relax before we meet up with the rest of the group. 
The place was crowded. Full of dirty Hipsters. Blah. 
And for the first time I actually saw a band there. I have no idea what they were called and all the members were too old to have a crush on...so I paid little attention. 
Then we got a text from the rest of the group and we left. 
We went to a more mainstream, popular bar where you get groped while you dance and have little room to move. I was ready to dance, but an awkward encounter from an ex-best friend had me running out of that bar like a little five year old. 
I needed to go somewhere where that little skank would never be seen dead in. 
I sought shelter. 
At the Hipster Bar. 
For Christ sakes, even the band was still playing!
So there I sat as I watched the band play, with a Hipster Chick with a brunette afro danced with a skinny guy that was hardly male - even now I'm still not sure. 
We clapped at the end of each song and eventually the band left. 
I sat with The Pixie, who kindly ran after me when I caught my eyes on the ex-best friend skank. 
The Bar was warm, cosy, people (no matter how weird they seemed) laughed, talked, no judging or criticising. Guys were only coming onto me at a distance. I liked hanging out there. 
Oh Holy Jesus. 
 I refuse to call this place my hangout. I don't want to be a hipster! I know I'm not - and judging by the outfit tastes of me compared to the fair maidens on Saturday - I don't think they'd call me one either. 
it does worry me that when I was upset and drunk in confusion, that's the place I wanted to go. 
Is this a Hipster Transformation in progress? 

...nah! 

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. 

A Quiet Night In

It's a Thursday night.
So like normal 19 year olds, I should be out in Civic; getting piss drunk, dancing, getting piss drunk, hitting on hot guys, getting hit on by ugly ones- oh and did I mention getting off my face?

but instead I'm here; In my room, writing a piece on where I should really be.

Now don't take this as a self obsorbed, whiny, bitchy, get-over-yourself-you-pathetic-loser post.
This is more asking the question or more pleading to the public...

"Calling all homebodies, self confessed couch potatoes and bed dwellers alike! For those who'd rather stay warm in bed reading a book than seeing the film version that's out. For those who, watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy is an action packed Saturday night. And for anyone who'd rather watch the footy on TV, than sit in the freezing cold; this post is for you!"

Believe me Brothers and Sisters, you're preaching to the choir if you think I'm not a true believer.

Because I have always been this way. I have no issues staying home and chilling out here. Now of course from time to time one must brave the unknown or "outside"; work, uni, friend, family commitments (not to mention low food supplies) means one must venture out and make ones abode more pleasent.
For nothing makes "no place like home" then leaving; knowing in a few hours/days, you'll be back and safe in your cave.

So if I'm a true believer than what's with the post?
Casually strolling down my facebook newsfeed I notice how many status' include "Civic; yeah Bitches!" and the always- "Who's doing Civic runs tonight?"
I must confess there was a pang- no, no, lets make it a ping of sadness- the why didn't you go out as well?

For once, my friendship group actually organised something with more than an hours notice.
Did I want to go? Of course.
But then the "Homebody" inside of me lept out, and going didn't seem that appealling anymore.

So I guess my point to all of this is this-

Dear Homebodies, couch potatoes and bed dwellers alike.
Embrace your homeliness- your love for the simple, casual night out.
But never be afraid to venture out into this land of "outside"
whether it's clubbing or something else- let your wild side take over and have fun!
Then the next night you can have our fun- watching secretly loved movies with a cup of tea.
From
Daydreamer.