Sunday, January 30, 2011

Kings of the Club

At some point, you have to do like Teddy P. and "let it goooooo!" There has to be a stopping point, right? When is enough, enough?

You're probably asking yourself, "what in the world is he talking about?"

I'm talking about being too old to party like a rock star. I remember that faithful day when I went out to the local nightclub with my partner in crime, Shawn. I'm almost 29 years old and feeling pretty good about myself. I had my own home in a nice neighborhood, a great job, and my car was paid for. Life was good.

We get to the club and go inside without paying like we normally do. Shawn and I have been coming to this club for seven or eight years now and the bouncers just let us through. Bypassing the line and walking in the club gets the ladies' attention, too. Every blue moon, we'll tell the bouncers that a couple of hot ladies in line are with us and get them in immediately. We loved the attention that would bring us. We'd bring them in, tell them to enjoy their evening, and walk off. It was a tactic we used regularly that had a high success rate (since ignoring hot women confuses and intrigues them). We knew that if we didn't have any luck with anyone else in the club that night, we could always find our way back to the ladies who thought we were "high rollers" with "V.I.P." status.

So, we walk inside and go straight to the bar. I rarely drink, but Shawn can put back some Michelob Ultras and we're friends with all of the bartenders. We're at the bar and two girls approach me.

Another day at the office for me and Shawn back in the Summer of 1994. And yes, I'm sober.

So, before I could proceed to go into my "bar lean" and dish out some of my best game, one of the two girls asked me, "Excuse me, sir. Can you get us some beer?"


"Yes, sir. We're 19 and they won't sell it to us."

Whoa, whoa, whoa. I came to a reality that I ultimately knew would happen some day: I'd become "the old man in the club." (dramatic soap opera music of your choice plays here)


"No, I will not buy you two any beer and get my bartender friend in trouble."

"You suck!"

Wow. Craziness. Despite the insult, I'm still stunned that I've been referred to as "sir" and that I've encountered two females in the club that weren't even born in the same decade as me. I catch up with Shawn and tell him the story and he cracks up laughing. "Man, if they're old enough to bleed, they're old enough to breed."

"Uh, thank you, Confucius. The point I'm trying to make is that we're finally the old men in the club, nut! Remember how we used to laugh at those guys eight or nine years ago? We're them!"

"Dude, you got me messed up. We ain't older, we're better. We've just graduated from the Princes of the Club to the Kings of the Club."

Wow. He actually made sense to me for a hot second. Sure, 80% of the club was under 22-yrs old, but we were still young enough to mingle, right? Besides, it could also be advantageous to us since our experience would easily allow us to manipulate the younger women. Because contrary to what younger women think, you are at an older man's mercy when he knows what he's doing. He will leave you so dazed and confused that the day after, you will be looking for him in the middle of the afternoon with a flashlight because your mind is so gone.

The night went on and after dancing until 4 AM, I went home while Shawn ended up catching a ride with one of the blondes who asked me for a drink. I guess he bought her one. He was always in predator mode, but I rarely took the easy route with women. I always found the finest girl in the club and would try to talk to her. I got rejected a lot, but I always preferred a challenge. Hooking up with some drunk chick was never my thing. Besides, Shawn was into blondes. I wasn't.

I made up my mind at that point that I would no longer go back to that club on a regular basis. It was time to find a more mature place to hang out. A place where I would once again be the "young buck."

Why some people can't have the same epiphany is beyond me. So many Facebook statuses every Sunday morning show updates about some of my peers over 35 years old discussing going out the night before at college-level nightclubs.

Why? Can't you accept the fact that it's time to move on to something different? It doesn't mean that you can't go out, you just shouldn't go out where people are a decade and a half younger than you.

Shawn is still clubbing. He's divorced, 40, and living his life. He now chooses to party where other 40-year olds do down at his new home in Pensacola, FL. He's cool with that and I think it's cool, too. Especially since his stepson is now old enough to attend the club where he and I were once Kings.

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