Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? Any girl who's been clubbing recently knows!
Now, don't get me wrong- I do not think that men are, as a rule, pigs. I think most of them are perfectly decent human beings. But you have to admit, some of them can be real dicks, and I've found that these types can be most amply found in clubs.
An example: let me tell you about a recent visit of mine to St. Pauli, Hamburg's clubbing district. Those of you who read my review of The Avengersalready know about one sketchy experience I've had since moving here, but it pales in comparison to this.
I had heard rumors about the skanky nature of St. Pauli, but I had also been reassured that those rumors were wildly exaggerated, and so, eager to party and all dolled up from the top of my dyed red head to the soles of my four-inch ankle-strap high heels (otherwise known as my "Spice Girl shoes"), I set out looking for adventure, excitement, and beer in the worst-reputed neighborhood in town. Of course, like most things, it didn't live up to it's reputation- though parts of it are on the seedy side, most of it consisted of nice clubs and bars. I set out determined to have hella fun, and was succeeding- until I met Pepe, that is.
I never caught his real name, but I dubbed him Pepe LePew because he was French, unshakable, and desparately enamored of me. We started talking in a bar, basically because we both spoke French ("Vous parlez le francais? Je parlais le francais!") but I quickly decided that he was a boring and rather unattractive sort, and would be completely de trop if I happened to run into anyone more appealing. So I bade him au reviour very politely, and left the bar. And guess who followed me out onto the sidewalk? Oui, c'est Pepe!
For two hours, he followed me from club to bar to disco, despite my attempts to shake him, which ranged from subtle ("Well, it was nice talking to you, bye...") to pointed ("I'd really like to be alone, please.") to unmistakable (shaking him off angrily when he hugged me around the head tight enough to pop my skull and saying "Good-bye" in my iciest voice). I'll say one thing for Pepe, he was a dogged little skunk.
Things were getting downright hostile on my part, when I finally thought I'd managed to shake him. I was walking through a little alley between two clubs when I realized how terribly my feet hurt. Spice Girl shoes look foxy, but they hurt like the dickens. Well, I decided to sit on the curb and rest my weary feet, when suddenly Pepe popped out of the shadows, and jauntily asked, "C'est un probleme?" I glared at him, and then he noticed my shoes, and began to point and say, "Tres long, oui?" in a voice of amazed admiration, like I was Joan of Arc for willingly suffering through such agonizing footwear. Then, I guess to reward my courageous martyrdom, he leaned down and tried to tounge kiss me. Luckily, I realized what was coming, and dodged, but not fast enough to escape a trail of slobber on my glasses.
Pissed off (how dare he take such liberties? I'm a lady, dammit! I don't do that kind of thing! At least not with men so flagrantly unappealing.), I leapt to my feet, wincing as I did so, and stomped away, mentally cursing both Pepe and my choice of footwear, which did not facilitate quick escapes from horny skunks. Once again, I thought I had lost him, but he once again caught up with me, this time on a deserted side street that I was walking down in search of a club that someone had recommended to me. I was trying to ignore him, though at this point my annoyance was somewhat tempered with good, old-fashioned fear, when he suddenly cried out, "Wait a second!" And, turning towards a wall, he whipped it out and started peeing on the sidewalk, which was the last straw. I can keep my composure through many things- being followed around, fending off annoying flirtation, even dodging slobbery bijoux francais may piss me off, but I can keep some modicum of calm throughout. But public urination is a bit too much even for me. I snarled "Fuck you!" (my French skills annihilated by the disgusting spectacle before me) and stomped off. Behind me, I heard a cry of "Wait!" and the sound of a zipper hastily being done up. Hoping he caught his dick in it, I charged on.
Later that night, we found ourselves in the same disco. The Evil One had now moved on from trying to score to flat-out grifting. He told the bartender that he was with me and I was paying for his drinks, and since I didn't know enough German to straighten the situation out, I was stuck buying Satan a beer. Then, he had the nerve to come over and ask me if I wanted to dance, and, presumably to encourage me, getting out on the floor in front of me and doing some freakish step that resembled nothing so much as a monkey flailing about. I was livid. I had screamed an obscenity at this bastard and charged off, how much more blunt could I be? What did I have to do to get across the message that I wasn't interested? Castrate him?
Well, to make a long story short, I said something that made plain my low opinion of him. He pretended not to understand. Then he began wildly defending himself against the insult that he had supposedly been unable to comprehend. Then he "accidentally" burned my hand with his cigarette. I was about to "accidentally" bury my fingernails in his face (when I drink, I become a bit pugilistic, and he was pushing it) when somebody who had witnessed the whole argument told him to leave me alone, and after a heated argument with the intervener, he did.
This all amounted to a wasted night out for me, but for some of you boys, this tale has a very useful purpose. Do you want to avoid premarital sex (or marital sex, for that matter) but fear that your willpower isn't enough to keep you virtuous? Do you want to stay faithful to your woman, but think you may be easily tempted by others? Well, just act like Pepe, and it won't be a problem... you won't have to worry about your wandering willy, cause if you behave like this, no woman on Earth will have you!!!!!!!!!! Just remember... be creepily unshakable, totally disrespectful, obnoxiously physical (the cranium-smashing around-the-forehead hug was particularly notable), and passive-aggressively violent... and don't forget to whip out your johnson at totally unwarranted and unwelcome moments! And you, too, will be well on your way to a life of celibacy. It worked for Pepe... it can work for you!