03/10/2002 Archived Entry: "On outings"

Last night, Mistress (Laura, my girlfriend) and I went out to a club kind of thing with a friend of Mistress and the friend's boyfriend. Before we went out, we met at Friend's apartment and had a few drinks (only one small one for me, the Permanent Designated Driver). We sat around and talked, the four of us, and I came to realize that Friend's boyfriend and I worked for Convergys at the same time. I don't remember him, nor does he remember me, but we more than likely had contact back then. Wiggy.

After talking for about an hour, we then went "out". We drove from Friend's apartment to a club in Rice Village called The Bronx, and there we...sat and talked for three more hours. There were two primary differences between The Bronx and Friend's apartment:

1) There was much loud music at The Bronx and we had to shout to be heard
2) There was much more alcohol at The Bronx

The place was tastefully decorated with New York memoriabilia and many comfortable green leather sofas. Since it wasn't packed when we arrived, we quickly staked out one of the sofas and hung out while the place filled. Over the course of the next three hours, I got to watch as Friend got progressively more and more shitfaced and I got progressively more and more hoarse from having to yell to be heard.

Perhaps there's something wrong with me, but I just don't enjoy "going out," as everyone seems to call it. Mistress and I have been out to a number of clubs before (for you Houstonians, I've hit Fitzgerald's and Sherlock's many times), and I am...totally unimpressed with what is apparently a major weekend activity for tons of people.

"Yay! Let's go out and get drunk and dance around! Whooptie-shit!" I fail to see anything fun about going to a club. I'm much more comfortable drinking in private, by myself or with Mistress and a few friends. There's no shitty loud music in my apartment (except for roommate's; right now, he's blasting ICP's "Dead Body Man" from his room). There's no cavorting crowd of strangers. I suppose I hate that the most--the other people. I can't stand most people ANYWAY--being in a room full of drunken idiots only makes me nervous and anxious to leave.

So, I had a fair time last night, because of the conversation and because Mistress was there. But I have to ask--if the point of the evening was to talk and have fun, why did we ever leave Friend's apartment? It was much nicer and quieter there.

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