i’m thinking of going to sfdrinkclub’s soiree this thursday at the velvet lounge. i’m not even sure since another reggae / hip-hop shindig, thrown by filipinos for global justice – not war, is going down at il pirata on the same night. it’s been a while since i haven’t gone out to those parties. lounge or superfluously adrenalized dancing, i’d probably go former. well call it official, i haven’t gone to sfdc in decades since my former co-worker at the law firm dragged me to the same place on her birthday 2 years ago.
this is how i see it. you go to a club. you’re taken, you can get laid right after. you’re not, you don’t. unless you’ve spat the right game at the right timing will you break the rule. after being in the scene for several years, i realized that almost all girls just want to have fun by themselves. they’d only go for a stranger of the opposite sex if he was very appealing to their standards. i’ve seen my homeez get slapped, dissed, splashed with alcohol, run into fights with the girls’ guy friends or boyfriends, and all that crazy shit. they were crazy, nevertheless. all drunk as they touch the girls passing by their midst. of course, who wouldn’t get into trouble after that?
girls are girls, regardless. they’d always bring their best selves when you see them at clubs. much more is how they shake that thang. ( whoo, mama!! ) last girl whom i took digits from was a mad dancer. we’d go to each floor at ibiza and she’d just amaze me out of my wits. we ended up being friends, hanging out together, cooking food at her place, dining out occasionally, watching tv on a cold weather, and all that good stuff. she got irritated at me one time when i accompanied her on her shopping. the department stores just didn’t have an affinity on me lately. she’d complain why i had to ask her to return stuff the way they should be as she just left them like clothes going to the hamper. on the way home she told me these pointers while i feigned a listening ear. the later hours dissipated our earlier disagreement like crisp sand writings blown by the sultry sahara desert wind. it was fun hanging out with her. i haven’t talked to her since i moved out of the city.
i didn’t get any girl’s number after dancing with the following ones who i meet from any club right after that. dance. stolen kiss. leave. being serious is a big responsibility, but who said clubs are good places to hook up? i’d get into an argument, the girl ends up telling me to leave and i do as she pleases. next thing i hear from her is her question why i left.
“that’s how it goes with them, my friend,” my hiking buddy told me while we climbed the hills of muir forest, “don’t ever do the things that they ask you to do because they meant the other way.” yz was a player and got girls’ digits here and there. he also got rejected a million times like i did. i think you learn to turn the tables after losing endless counts.
two months back. the carpooler was pleasant when i hopped in.
“nice weather today, isn’t it?”
“yeah, i sure hope the rest of the day would be this way.” i replied.
he was listening to some 70’s bepop as i looked over the neighborhood. the day sure is going to be clear and nice today. we got off the university avenue ramp and merged onto the 80 freeway to the bay bridge. the guy had a cheerful disposition. he apologized to me after deciding to take the merging carpool lane only to find out that the regular lanes moved faster. i delightfully fended the apology while i looked over the blue sea. there didn’t seem to be any faux pas creeping out of him while we knew that the tech industry’s economy was going down. i insenuated that he belonged to that sector from the sunny, formal casual clothes he was wearing and when he said he was going to palo alto for work. takes over an hour to get there. we merged into the other carpool lane as a car almost hit us. it didn’t even seem to bother him. he was still in his happy constitution as he down-shifted from fourth to third gear going up the bridge. we exited at fremont and he dropped me off on that same corner where carpoolers unload their passengers.
“thanks, it was a pleasure riding with you.” he said. i thanked him with great appreciation myself. the feeling of contentment somehow permeated on me while pondering how down-to-earth the carpooler was despite of his social standing. i crossed the pedestrian lane as i saw his porsche drive down harrison into the distant sunlight reflected by the city skyscrapers.
still, there are people out there who are still their same selves no matter how high life takes them. the guy who was dancing crazily at the party had just ran 12 blocks to go to denny’s japantown. he wanted to get some air after all the drinking. we were all lounging at the huge dining hall of this one guy’s 11th floor suite overlooking san francisco. he was pretentiously an ordinary guy, calm, friendly, and panting from his alcohol-abatement marathon. he just did several startups and was waiting for his co-worker to get ready for their drive back to los altos.
down-to-earth, i’d say…
i just can’t take it. i’m going to get me some dinner and i don’t care if i’m ostracizing my discipline on my workouts.