Clubbing, self-loathing
Posted on September 2, 2008
Filed Under Anatomy of a Drunk Man, Failures
So, I went “clubbing” (God, I hate that word) with some of the marketing managers and employees from work right? What can I say? well, the swanky, super exclusive club we went to somewhere in the fort area leaves a lot to be desired if you’re someone who has read even just one book in your lifetime.
I seriously feel like I’d be more “in my element” in a Mexican jail cell than in clubs, because at least I watch those prison documentaries they run on National Geographic, I find Mexican men attractive and experimented with anal sex at one point in my life.
I’m not exactly as adept in dealing with people who wear their collars up, use too much hair product and have dragons printed all over their pants who dance with attractive women while nursing cocktails
God, I hate clubs. And the fort.
Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not claiming to be the “It guy” of Quezon city and its non-bars or whatever. It’s not like I hung out with Kuya Germs and banged starlets left and right after hours of clubbing and doing drugs but I feel perfectly comfortable in QC bars. I could buy a couple of Red Horses from the Sari-sari store across our house and then go out and to one of the hole in the wall bars within ten kilometers of our village. Or, I could even drink alone in the porch, send SMS’s to my drinking buddies and, within minutes, have multiple options in terms of where to go via friends who are already out drinking.
(Also, Kuya Germs? What the fuck? I probably thought of him because he seemed like a guy who’s into the same shit I’m into–like luxury, drinking, drugs, and women. Well not really, come to think of it)
Anyway, if there’s one thing I came to realize that night, it has to be the fact that I will never, EVER, have the chance to have sex with women who frequent clubs like the one we went to.
The women are incredibly HOT, I’ll give them that. The thing is, I’m never gonna have none of them. The only circumstances I could ever see myself having sex with any of them under involve a couple of tablets of Ativan, Ajinomoto, lots of alcohol, a black garbage bag and a dull knife. Otherwise, it’s just not possible.
The reason being is because, if you know me well enough, I am:
- Considerably witty
- relatively famous on the Internet
- moderately successful
However, I am also:
- An emotional wreck
- really fat
- unathletic
- ugly
In clubs like these, there is nothing that can compensate for physical deficiencies–no wittiness, no mention of anything intelligent. None. If I did try to talk to those women, it would probably go like this:
Me: “What do I do? Let’s see. Well I make retail websites perform better using avant garde internet marketing techniques. My hobbies are improving myself, waiting for women to finish shopping and saying sorry a lot.”
Girl: [Not paying attention, checking out a douchbag with the topmost 3 buttons of his shirt unbuttoned behind me] “Um, sorry I wasn’t really paying attention. How many pounds can you bench press again?”
Me: “What I’m saying is that I beat Jesus in a game of Trivia Pursuit back in 1988 and guess what? Whenever a girl sucks my dick, Angels magically deposit 70,000 pesos to her bank account”
Girl: [On the phone] “Oh my God! you won’t believe who I saw! Sam fucking Milby! I know right! Anyway, I’ll tell you more later!” [Turning back to me] “How many pounds again?”
So yes, until girls like these become more desperate, I shall only be establishing sexual relationships with them during one of my five daily masturbation sessions. Whatever.
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The Star
Mike "Fucking" Villar
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"The personal blog of Marketing Strategist, Rising Internet Star, Man Blog editor, child pornographer, alcoholic, and cokehead-- Douchebag Jones--Err, Mike Villar! -
Add “can’t dance” to that list, too. Or wait, can you?
Sooner or later, men (the kind not blessed with Piolo Pascual looks, oh he’s so dreamy, or equine-like appendages) get numb and lose all desire to have sex with super hot women. Instead, they settle for sex with their WIVES, uuggh, and spend all their time either at work, or worrying whether or not their daughters are having sex with someone at school, or whether or not their sons are doing drugs, or worse, turning gay.
So yeah, the future’s bright. Gotta wear shades.
You make me feel so depressed. I hate you.
Oh I can dance. I can jive. And have the time of my life. Like a dancing queen! No, wait!
I have SIX daily masturbation sessions! Ha! I beat you!
TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST TGST
Actually, The wife and I will be going to several clubs this Saturday. Her idea, not mine. But I’m not complaining. Helga will be joining us, as well as two other very hot women. A few more are yet to confirm. So maybe you’d like to join us, give this whole club scene another chance. I know it’s not how you roll. Fuck, neither is it mine. But hey, it could be fun.
I also wanted to point out that although I’ve been with Jen for almost a decade, having sex with her never feels like settling.
Love your blog, MV. It’s fricking brilliant! Each entry is a very entertaining read.
Not really fun stuff, Im with ya. At the end of the night it just hurts- head, wallet, ego and ‘nads. Pretty much like a multiple combo in Killer Instinct.
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