I went to a club the other night, a rather strange occurrence for me. I’ve written before about how I don’t do clubs. Trust me I’ve tried to like them. I’ve tried to get into the groove of things. I’ve put on the tight dresses with the heels, sipped on drinks and flirted with men. And I’ve even had really amazing nights with lifelong friends and beautiful people when the DJ was on point and I felt like id be timeless….forever young. But for me that timeless feeling has been fleeting when it comes to my clubbing experiences. Mostly I’ve felt sweaty and gross. The drinks have been way too pricey and the DJ beyond wack and I ask myself why I’ve bothered to beat my face and place stilettos upon my feet, when really a late night milkshake on a rooftop with old friends laughing and watching the sun come up would have suited me just fine.
Which brings me back to the other night. As I walked to the club from the train (cab expenses can only be rationalized to a point) I felt anxious. An anxiety that bubbled up in my throat. I wanted to hide, to run away, to jump back on the uptown express, and crawl into my bed with my Kindle. But why? Where did this feeling of anxiousness come from? I’ve been aware on some level for quite a few years of my disdain for clubs. And yet, this was something else. Perhaps it was stepping outside of my comfort zone that had me feeling apprehensive. Or the rude bouncers that rule the overpriced clubs in the meatpacking district. (My main concern was trying not to snap my ankle as I teetered along the cobblestones in my favorite shoes. (Because apparently sky high stilettos are a must in the meatpacking district -_-)
Once I actually made it into the club I was immediately calm. I sat and chatted with beautiful brown people. ( It really is true that there is like a six degree separation, from every educated black person to another in this country) The DJ was a poor purchase as expected but that didn’t stop us from having a jolly grand time. (We made sure to get there when it was free before they started charging a $40 cover.) As I sat there chatting and sipping, I realized two things.
1) I don’t have to like clubs. That’s not a requirement for being twenty-something. There are so many things that I’d rather be doing and it’s completely ok to do them and forgo the anxieties and the groping and other foolishness surrounding the club experience. (I’ve even found a lovely website for peeps like me)
2) Facing the things that make me anxious, the things that make me nervous or unsure are the best way to concur my fears. Its ok to determine that I’m not here for one thing or another, but I’ve decided to hold on to my opinions until I’ve actually tried doing the things I have anxiety about.
xoxoxox Chocolate Girl In the City xoxoxox
PS: Also when facing your fears just won’t cut it. Sweat that shit out. (I quite enjoy a smooth run)