drunken sex – travel (day three)

Last night I went out with an old friend to a string of clubs, mainly of the singles variety. Some interesting places (Lone Palm, Elbow Room, Latin American, Make Out Room).

What struck me was the whole singles vibe. Guys on girls like flies on shit, drunk people making the case for racial inequality on the dance floor, alcohol as a social tool for getting laid. I ended up playing Galaga in the corner thinking about how ridiculous the whole thing is.

Why is it that in order to either have the courage to talk to a woman, or for a woman to have the courage to take off her clothes we have to be drunk? The more I think about it the less I like actually being drunk. It just doesn’t do it for me anymore. I don;t need to be hammered to have a good time, talk to people, or enjoy myself.

Wandering down the streets of the Mission district in search of a better place to drink I found the whole thing hilarious. Getting laid seems much harder than I remember it. The funk at the Elbow Room was good, the girls were hot – but in the end I find the whole situation distasteful.

I like to dance, and doing so with a bunch of hot girls in tow is fun – but why do we play this game of cat and mouse in order to “hook up”? When do we become adults? When does sexuality become part of the conversation without the need to be blackout drunk?

Back at Randys alone at 2am. Game over.


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