I’m not opposed to a fun-filled night at the club. I mean, in my day, I used to shake the club DOWN, baby. I’m talking slutty top, ample cleavage, face beat to perfection and a bad mother-”shut yo mouth” crew in tow. I was THAT chick. I didn’t wait in line. I was the one the line watched while I entered with my crew. I never bought drinks. VIP access was NEVER an issue and I usually left with more than a few potential suitors to date.
And then one day, I grew up. I graduated from undergrad, moved to Los Angeles, got a real job and started paying bills. I didn’t club as much as I “bar hopped” (note: that’s how you know you’ve got white friends). Every blue moon, I’d have one of “those” epic nights in Hollywood where you’re just glad you’re alive to tell the story. Mostly, I enjoyed fine dining, quiet nights with friends and the occasional “oh I really had too many glasses of wine” morning.
So when my sister @celedon_chic came to me a few weeks ago hell bent on attending a club appearance by Sons of Anarchy star Charlie Hunnam at Reign Nightclub (@reignatlanta), I was more than apprehensive. I don’t club anymore. I just don’t. I’m a professional, 33-year-old, married, mother of a two-year-old. What possible freaking reason could I have for being at a nightclub?? I’m no longer seeking a suitor. All my bad mother-“shut yo mouth” crew members are married, have kids, gained too much weight or just as old as I am. I no longer even have the proper slutty gear in my closet. It’s filled with luxury labeled suits, blouses, proper skinny jeans, ballet flats and boots: none of which belong in a club.
BUT @celedon_chic was ADAMANT. She is a HUGE fan of Sons of Anarchy and even more so of Charlie. She follows @sutterink on twitter in hopes of learning any tiny new detail of the show, of what Charlie is doing, what happened on set, if he’s dating anyone new, if he had a hair cut, if he blinked twice instead of once while delivering a line, etc. Hell, in her head, they are dating … he just doesn’t know it. And anyone who knows me knows that I would do ANYTHING in this world to make @celedon_chic happy. She’s my sissy. My soul mate. My love. So, on a Saturday night though sick with the most epic case of the flu, I doped up (all over the counter stuff), put on my BEST go get ‘em dress and headed to Reign.
After waiting and waiting and waiting to catch a glimpse of Mr. Charlie, he finally appeared. I must admit … he’s pretty cute … for a white boy *Ye shrug*. He’s got that dirty, outlaw sorta urban thing going. I can dig it. I don’t know if it was worth a cold trek to a night club and over priced drinks, but I can dig it. We rushed the stage to get as many pictures as possible and then I went to work. I tried talking to security, stage hands, DJs (SN: I actually ended up in quite a heated twitter convo with Q100’s @jeffmilesradio because I felt he was giving special access to slutty looking chicks versus REAL fans – see my twitter page. But, I got no beef with my man Jeff. It was a battle of wills that ended in me smiling and following him on Twitter. I know he’s got me next time :-). Besides, how can you not love a man who’s willing to fight with you a little? It’s sexy). In the end, we hipped, hopped, shouted and shimmied, but it wasn’t enough. We were unable to get a personal picture with Charlie. Apparently, he went next door to Vanquish and was much more hospitable. To his credit, it looks like Vanquish set out a much more fan-friendly atmosphere. Reign was a zoo. Literally. Lots of people staring, taking pictures and waiting for any slight movement from the caged animal. No bueno.
While driving home and laughing about the night with my Sissy, It hit me. I’m too old for this sh*t. I’m just … too old. I used to have the juice, but I don’t have it anymore. 10 years ago we would’ve gotten that picture with Charlie AND partied with him in HIS private VIP area at Vanquish because I was clearly not the chick you said no to. Today, I’m just another lady at the club. There’s nothing incredibly special about me other than the fact that I’m still hot (for 30+) … hmpf … you better ask somebody :-).
And so to save you the trouble of experiencing a night like mine, I thought I’d offer 10 Reasons You Know You’re Too Old to [Enjoy the] Club. Bible. Take my word for it. If you can identify with any number of these points, it’s time to give that old tube top in the back of your closet to the Goodwill and settle for “Girls Night Out” at a friends house with wine and nice cheese.
Here you go:
- You’re sober when you arrive.
- You’re sober when you leave.
- A mid-floor “So You Think You Can Dance” / “Who Got Served” dance competition breaks out which renders you speechless
- All of the dancing black guys think they’re Usher … or maybe Justin Bieber. And they are not. (That sh*t isn’t cute, but the young chicks EAT IT UP)
- You forget to wear your slutty outfit. (Probably because you no longer have one)
- You forget that slutty is the point. Period.
- You notice that the drinks are hella expensive and super watered down.
- You can’t talk or cute or flirt your way into VIP. You literally have that conversation from Knocked Up with security. See here ——> (http://youtu.be/HEfiG63zv1g)
- Instead of dancing with the drunk, young chick that has zeroed in on you, you’re slick nervous that this bitch is one Rihanna-inspired move away from throwing up on you.
- The only dude who wants to dance is chubby, Asian and doing the Gangnam Style. Not good. EPIC fail.
BONUS: You forgot that no line outside the club is a bad thing.
Should I choose to EVER go clubbing again, you can rest assured that I’m going on some Jay-Z, 30 is the new 20 VIP sh*t … show these kids what money and class looks like in the club. Ya heard me?