1. Clothing. I am nowhere even hip enough to pull of the clubbing outfits I used to wear back in my clubbing days. I simply cannot wear pointy toe, 3 inch stiletto's and get my groove on. Nor can I pull of skinny jeans. And my boobs will likely fall out for all the see if I wear those super low cut shirts.
2. Alcohol consumption required to dance. I don't normally need any alcohol to dance and shimmy, but I was so nervous to show my stuff off when there were skinny hot girls getting all jiggy with it.
3. Bright flashy neon lights. Every 4 seconds I found myself temporarily blinded by a larger than life flash IN MY EYE.
4. Men. I may not have been the hottest girl in the club, but there was a dude who keep dancing close to me and I was so afraid he'd come try to bump and grind on my leg. And then I would have been forced to say something like, "No thank you, I'm a mom of two and I'm not cool enough. Move along young man." What a horrible response, no? Lame, even.
5. Noise. I'm fully aware I went to a club and that it's supposed to be loud. But I could not hear myself think from all the bass pounding in my ear. It wasn't even music, really. Which leads me to...
6. Music. I am simply not in 'the know' when it comes to club music. Back when I used to frequent clubs I knew every song practically. The songs they played? Not so much.
7. Weather. When you go to clubs you don't bring jackets and purses with you. If you do, you have to worry about keeping track of it all. It's hard to dance while holding a warm jacket and a 12 pound purse. Trust me, I tried. There was no way in hell I was going to trek all the way across downtown Fort Worth in a short sleeve top and no jacket when it's 40 degrees outside. And I certainly couldn't leave my purse in the car. My mother might kill me, because that's just begging for someone to break into your car.
8. Sweat. Sweating is not pretty. I'm not an excessively profuse sweater, but I found myself dabbing at my forehead a few times and hoping that my makeup wasn't running all over my neck. It's hard to look all sexy while shimmying and dripping beads of sweat.
9. Aches and pains. Oh my. Ever fiber of my 30-year-old body hurts. My knees especially. I guess I can't groove all the way to the floor and work my way back up. My knees? They hate me. So does my back and thighs and calves. I suppose it was a good workout, though. But still.
10. Smell. Have you ever really smelled clubs? Hello? Stinky McStinkerson. Smoke combined with sweat combined with testosterone combined with the faint lingering stench of vomit : gross.
11. Here's a bonus reason: bathrooms! Hello, why do club owners think it's ok to only have 3 bathroom's for every single woman in the club? Don't they know we are drinking and dancing? 3 bathrooms isn't too bad. But when one stall is out of order and the other stall door gets stuck when you tried to exit it cause for lots of women doing the potty dance.
You'd think I had a horrible time on my club adventure. But really I had a great time. I took me a while to warm up and get into the groove, but once I ignored everyone else (and had a shot or 3). I was a dancing fool. It was just like old times. I think I may even bust out my lifetime VIP status* at City Streets.
*I frequented City Streets so often a few years ago that I got a VIP card that meant I could get in for free instead of paying the $20 to get in. I also had access to the VIP area. I just loved that place and the people that worked there. The DJ, Jeff, always played Prince's Pussy Control when I walked it. See, I used to be cool! I swear!