I went clubbing for the first time last night.  Good to know I was still saleable.  I wasn't worried I wouldn't be, thus going clubbing to reassure my insecure self.  Just to clarify.  I went clubbing with some friends because I was Godang bored at home.  My speakers got busted, I couldn't watch the Hayden Kho scandals in full quality, etc. etc.

For a very long time, I had always been curious about what kind of life these "party-goers" led.  In conclusion my boyfriend told me: it's to get laid. LOL. led, laid.  What about the people who just wanted to have fun and dance?  What about the people like me?  I thought hours later, I knew a different meaning to the word "party". 

So here I was, just dancing in a corner, talking to a friend who recognized me in all the chaos and darkness, when this American guy just approached me and kissed me.   What the f*ck, man? was what I said.  To apologize he bought me a drink.  A vodka tonic.  He spouted some French stuff.  Sorry hun, I wasn't the type who swooned over French.  I happened to think the French language was gay.  Whatever.

I went back to my friends, when I thought, maybe I was too mean.  I went back to him and he was already talking to this girl.  I interrupted him, said that I felt like talking to him, and he got my number.  After which he asked me if I was horny. 

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No.  I decided this was stupid, got out and bought myself an overpriced Bacon and Eggs breakfast, waited for the sun to rise, promised to purge all promiscuous fantasies I might have considered in my youth.  I was too good for this.