Every era is about envying people for some things and despising for others: 'Awww....the good old times', 'We back then didn't have a thing...', 'You back then didn't have anything...', ...
I think we are all fighting for this little bit of space of our present existence that confirms that we are worth being here, and we use comparisons about the past to underpin this value.
Why I am writing this? Oh, I was in a club the other night. The first time after almost 30 years of sophisticated married lifestyle, I went out with friends to the equivalent of what we in our teen days would have called 'A Disco'.
And now I have a project: I have to test more of those clubs! Yes, unfortunately I have to sacrifice myself for this research, because I am confused.
Either we had it soooo much better back in our days, or this club was not such a good one, or it is a cultural thing and the English do things differently.
Don't get me wrong: I had a fantastic time, including the broken voice and the headache in the aftermath, but...
.. and no, I am not going to complain about the music. It is very techno, and I actually qite like this DJ thing, in which a real human butchers the recent hit records. It is not so far from what we had with hard rock and heavy metal. It is all about getting as many beats as possible into a second. Dance style wise: The same. You either would move as fast as you can to follow the beat - only very few would do that - or you move at a toned down speed and try to look as cool as possible; theses days version has a lot of dirty dancing, so this is quite simple, too. Of course there are some who are naturally cooler than others, but the dance floor is so cramped that it doesn't really matter. Well, and if you are a girl and you know how to shake your booty, than not even age seems to get into the way of catching a few looks.
But! And that it the big BUT I will have to explore...
It all starts with two question: Why do people go to those places, and do those places accommodate those needs?
Apart from getting drunk as quickly as possible, which seems to be a very English thing, I can think of only one other reasons for going to a club: finding a mating partner; and this is a very subtle game which massively depends on the ambiente and the role you have. As mentioned before, there are the cool, the not so cool and the seriously uncool ones.
The not so cool ones have to play the role of wing man. Their job is to let the cool ones shine even more next to their sad existence, and they have to keep the not so cool guys/girls of their backs. They are a little bit like admin staff. Once in a while and out of desperation, the wing people will fall for each other, while still hoping to get promoted to cool and to land a hit - and be it in a drunk moment.
Or, now I am just pursuing the girl's perspective as that's the only one I know, one has a boyfriend who needs to be shown off, observed closely to see which of the other bitches has an eye on him and who he might have an eye on, and of course a lot of making out had to take place to mark the territory.
I usually was a wing man. I had been chosen to be servant to the coolest twins and top girls at school: blond, blue eyes -and that already lifted me up the ladder above the seriously uncool ones. It was hard work and I embarrassed myself ever so often to aim for the cool guys they had thrown off the cliff, but as soon as they were in relationships I had a bit of time for myself. These were the times when our - German, old fashion - type of disco came in handy.
They were dark! One could flirt and do a bit of deliberately unintended touching without anybody noticing. It was of utter importance that once a guy showed just the slightest bit of interest that none of the cool girls would see me flirting. They might despise each other, but they are using each other to fend off dangers in regard to losing their wing man assets, spreading rumors or even flirting with the bloke themselves while telling me how he tried to seduce them and that I would deserve better than him.
Oh, those lovely almost pitch black corners in the gaming area, and then the best of things... slow dance round. It would appear out of the blue, light goes dark and... well, one had to be smart to be on the dancefloor with the right guy. The tactics and suspense of when to tease a guy on the dance floor... too early, he might have left by then, too late... that was it for that day, as slow round only happened once or twice per night.
If the club I visited this week is exemplary to all clubs these days, I really do pity the kids. They have it so much more difficult to play their games subtly - and the fun of seduction does lie in the subtlety and the suspense that goes along with it. I admit that our lifestyle has become faster, everybody has to have everything straight away, but let me tell you... there is noting better than a slow round on an almost dark dance floor, whily gently negotiating a new relationship: feeling the other one breathe, fingertips sweating, a bit of pressure here, a bit of touching there until eventually cheeks stay together for that little bit to long, and...
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