Single in the clubs

Single in the clubs.

Being single in the suburbs is one thing, but what happens when a group of you travel to the trenches, right in the line of fire?

Mobile Phones by this age were all the rage, still not in colour, no apps or cameras attached, but if you didn’t have a nokia you weren’t cool. Us girls armed with our mobiles would hit the town in style looking for fun, trouble, love and whatever in-between.

Fake tan was liberally applied, as was bronzer and mascara. War paint was a must! Getting ready was half the fun, pre loading on cruisers, we’d straighten each other’s hair and discuss where to go first.

Being poor we would arrive early at some of Melbourne’s hottest spots in order to avoid wasting money on cover charges. Firstly we would hit the bar in order to scope out the selection of males awaiting us. We were eerily optimistic that Mr right could be over there shuffling to the spice girls.

Once finding a group of talent our mission would begin by dancing in their eye line hoping for some attention. Usually one of the group would come over and chat up some of my girlfriends. It took the bravest of friends to answer back, unless of course he was ugly and then suddenly rings would swap hands and like magic, we all married. I know this sounds super shallow, and no doubt it was if I’m honest.

More drinks, more flirting and of course plenty of dancing…. Until “I wanna dance with somebody” came on and if by cue there was always some serious disco pashing happening. The drunk, the brave and sometimes the desperate would be kissing away, hoping that the 15 cruisers and strobe lights were not lying.

Once they were sick of each other out came the nokias to exchange numbers, mostly my friends gave fake ones! This was either because they had seen what the guy really looked like at the bar, or quote “he’s not boyfriend material”. Again seems cut throat now, but it was what it was, and we were so young.

Many many nights were spent out and about not to mention our seamlessly disposable income. More often than not we would wake with a headache and enough change for a cheeseburger and a coke. It never felt like a waste of time because wherever we went, whatever we did fun ensured.

So yes I guess we lost this battle as we never met any decent blokes, maybe a few sneaky texts on our nokias, but all in all we put up a good fight and remained alive.

People always said “your never gunna meet your soul mate at a club”. What they didn’t understand was we had no alternative (or didn’t give a shit), where else can we find boys?

How many of you are guilty of the dirty disco pash??