Went to Quench last night with Elaine. We came early because, as poor college folk, we had no money and it was free before ten. Suffice to say, things really didn't heat up until about eleven, until which time we debated going up to tables of solitary men and decided that (a) we needed to watch reruns of 'Sex and the City' for club-hitting tips and (b) things would be a whole lot easier if we were tipsy before coming inside, and therefore needed to take a couple of vodka shots beforehand.
I only had one drink because I had to drive, a vodka and cranberry (well, along with a few sips from a bucket full of some rum-like drink), and most of the night was spent with Elaine getting progressively more drunk and dancing progressively more provocatively with men. Because I wasn't even tipsy, my social awkwardness began to kick in as Elaine threw all inhibitions to the wind, and I spent some time lurking in a corner searching for her among the sweaty mass of people on the dance floor. When I did find her she told me not to leave, because she thought some man (codename: Scarface) may have put something in her drink. Unable to escape from the mob, and Elaine being remarkably unconcerned because of her drunken state, she began to dance with some man named Alex and I with a man named Juan, the four of us in a way that I fear I cannot share on a potentially public blog.
Juan left to the bathroom and things between Eliane and Alex were just heating up, but, because I was already tired, tripping over drunk people, and having drinks sloshed on me, I voted to go. Elaine gave Alex her number and I led her into the street, giggling all the way and clutching my arm for support. Drunken Elaine quote of the night: "If I wasn't wearing clothes I think I had sex with, like, four guys tonight."
She called me this morning as I was getting up with a groan and said she woke up and vomited for two hours, and then resolved not to look at liquor for "at least two days."
Lesson learned: Do not be sober at a club, because everthing, even dancing provocatively, if not poorly, with men named Juan, looses its appeal.
I only had one drink because I had to drive, a vodka and cranberry (well, along with a few sips from a bucket full of some rum-like drink), and most of the night was spent with Elaine getting progressively more drunk and dancing progressively more provocatively with men. Because I wasn't even tipsy, my social awkwardness began to kick in as Elaine threw all inhibitions to the wind, and I spent some time lurking in a corner searching for her among the sweaty mass of people on the dance floor. When I did find her she told me not to leave, because she thought some man (codename: Scarface) may have put something in her drink. Unable to escape from the mob, and Elaine being remarkably unconcerned because of her drunken state, she began to dance with some man named Alex and I with a man named Juan, the four of us in a way that I fear I cannot share on a potentially public blog.
Juan left to the bathroom and things between Eliane and Alex were just heating up, but, because I was already tired, tripping over drunk people, and having drinks sloshed on me, I voted to go. Elaine gave Alex her number and I led her into the street, giggling all the way and clutching my arm for support. Drunken Elaine quote of the night: "If I wasn't wearing clothes I think I had sex with, like, four guys tonight."
She called me this morning as I was getting up with a groan and said she woke up and vomited for two hours, and then resolved not to look at liquor for "at least two days."
Lesson learned: Do not be sober at a club, because everthing, even dancing provocatively, if not poorly, with men named Juan, looses its appeal.
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