Girls think it is so easy. Gather a few cute friends. Blow-dry the hair. Put on the make-up, a cute smile with a flirty mimic, some short tight skirts, sexy tops and high heels. Once out the door, they are ready to conquer the nightlife in New York. 80% of the bouncers will be happy to let them in and mingle with us poor guys who are forced to drink at least a few bottles of alcohol at a table with a fake sexy waitress who is looking to suck out the limits on our credit cards.
Do not tell us that we can (maybe) avoid a table reservation. We don’t have the luxury, the character or the patience to deny the rules of the game. It takes ratios, bribes, credit cards and a totally superficial acquaintance to make it to the famous club where you want to dance us until bedtime.
The moment we are behind that red velvet rope we are reminded that we are there to be spiritually abused and financially raped. We get the attitude from the host who probably can not come close to the education, vision and culture we have been injected with over the years. We become the victim in front of an “average Joe” looking to abuse all the power he/she has been surprisingly given as the person who decides who to let into this luscious club that will only be popular for a few more months. We are constantly asked how many is in our party as we watch weird guys cutting through the line with their whole clan. We point towards the faces of our friends hoping they will pass the “beauty” test. We overhear the bouncers deciding the faith of our night by asking each other “what do you think?” with an extremely arrogant face. We wait. We ask for attention like a helpless puppy although a lion roars “you are too good for this” inside, grabbing onto our male ego. We are finally slapped with the sentence “I.D.s out!”. We hug although we despise. We shake hands although we hate the deal.
Each time we walk up to that club door we have cramps thinking about the next step. Yet, we walk the line with the prospect of a fun night with close friends. We take the attitude with the hope of a kiss from a girl we fancy. Alcohol helps only to ease the tension built up at the start of a night out in the city.
We pay the bill with a bad hangover and a regret that reminds us how we will pull through another night out in the city that never sleeps.
Time to switch to bars then..
This has been true for decades but I like the way you describe it. Keep writing Basstass.