Clubbing (K)Night

If this post sounds inchorent, forgive me. I slept at 5am and woke up at 7.30 am. I had given up my sleep yet again for a session at mambo, something which I had kept saying was not worthy for. However, Xiufang had given the ultimatum when she said that it was gonna be her last mambo. Moreover, Chinjie and her had given in to going Phuture for at least a while. How could I refuse an offer like that?


I did expect it to be a boring night, given all my previous mambo experiences. In fact, Chinjie probably thought I would be bored too, because he was rather apologetic that we did not really go to Phuture due to some foreseen circumstances. However, despite an alcohol-free night, I did have some fun. So it's really ok, CJ! :D


Perhaps it is because I am uber-sober, given that I had NO alcohol the entire night. (You really need no alcohol if you have great music. That may explain why mambo nights are so popular in clubs because clubs know that people need alcohol on MAMBO nights to get high. Mambo night = Rocket-high alcohol sales. But of course, there was no alcohol last night not because of great music but because of my resolution to not drink till end of this year.)

I digressed. So... Being conscious of my surroundings have made me realised that clubbing Singaporeans are really ungracious. Take note of the adjective "clubbing", because I do not want to stereotype my fellow countrymen based on a minority few who were under alcohol influence (what to blame? MAMBO!). When we tried to make our way across the dance floor, everyone was giving us the poison-ivy glares. Despite my repetitive apologies, I was greeted back with more glares. Honestly, is that why guys go home empty-handed every hunting night? I wouldn't trust my life with these bunch of petty wimps. Yes, the fact that Zouk tries to use Hong Kong population housing density as a guideline towards their own in-house capacity, together with Archimedes' principle of water displacement, mean that some guys along our route of destruction would get dislodged from their prey, but surely that is the "full package" expected at a club.


Not all is lost yet though. Just as I had given up hope on mankind, two angels descended from heaven. The first one was in the form of a sweet girl who saw that we needed tissue. So she promptly went to get tissue from the toilet for us. 5 minutes later, a guy came over and asked if "your friend is ok" and produced a stack of tissue from the bar. Charismatic guys like these turn me on.


I did used to think that I was a "looks" person, meaning that I would like a guy mainly based on his looks (proven after I nabbed hunky TE). However, I have come to learn that while I am still a very "looks" person, looks itself is very subjective to personality. The club was full of pretty boys and hot bods last night, but I left the place with the impression that they were all ugly. Yet, the one which left me with the greatest and best impression was the one who was not very tall, who was not making his groovy moves on the dance floor, who was not model-like handsome but offered his good-will with simple style. He did look good in his spunky white armour.


Good looks is all in the mind after all.