Here’s a truncated version. The argument was more convincing and sounder in my head than on paper. Maybe it’s in the delivery.
What's with people trying to persuade me to go clubbing and drinking recently? Just because I have antediluvian ideas of fun, and yes I admit that I'm a little conservative, doesn't mean I'm not enjoying myself. What's so bad about having a picnic at the Botanical Gardens when the weather is more forgiving? Dozing off on the freshly cut verdant fields letting your senses be greeted with the voluptuous fragrance of a myriad of flora, or reading a book beneath the shade isn't so bad an idea right? Granted that the branch doesn't fall on you, you should be experiencing an afternoon of unadulterated bliss.
My introvert nature would definitely not auger well with the thumping beats of a club. The odious din of the music could be compared to tribal war drumming at best and it definitely is not conducive for conversations. The last thing I need is to have alcohol addle my brain, obscuring my ability to think rationally and having embarrassed myself for having stuck my tongue down the throat of a complete stranger or become loud and boastful and eventually finding myself at the disadvantageous end of a drunken brawl. Thing could be so much worse, imagine being so wasted that you end up hurling all over the place like a baby that isn't burped well. Having people pull your hair back as you vomit all the intoxicating alcohol with such ferocity that your head glistens with sweat. Better still waking to find yourself plagued with a terrible handover with no pieces of clothes covering your shame in the aftermath of a bacchanalian orgy.
What's with people trying to persuade me to go clubbing and drinking recently? Just because I have antediluvian ideas of fun, and yes I admit that I'm a little conservative, doesn't mean I'm not enjoying myself. What's so bad about having a picnic at the Botanical Gardens when the weather is more forgiving? Dozing off on the freshly cut verdant fields letting your senses be greeted with the voluptuous fragrance of a myriad of flora, or reading a book beneath the shade isn't so bad an idea right? Granted that the branch doesn't fall on you, you should be experiencing an afternoon of unadulterated bliss.
My introvert nature would definitely not auger well with the thumping beats of a club. The odious din of the music could be compared to tribal war drumming at best and it definitely is not conducive for conversations. The last thing I need is to have alcohol addle my brain, obscuring my ability to think rationally and having embarrassed myself for having stuck my tongue down the throat of a complete stranger or become loud and boastful and eventually finding myself at the disadvantageous end of a drunken brawl. Thing could be so much worse, imagine being so wasted that you end up hurling all over the place like a baby that isn't burped well. Having people pull your hair back as you vomit all the intoxicating alcohol with such ferocity that your head glistens with sweat. Better still waking to find yourself plagued with a terrible handover with no pieces of clothes covering your shame in the aftermath of a bacchanalian orgy.
Why do we have to abuse alcohol to achieve that elusive “high”? Why should we depend on alcohol to liberate our minds and to cast all our worries aside with gay abandon?
Having to concentrate on not stepping on others is hard work enough but to be distracted pushing away eager sweaty palms as they climb lustfully up your ass or thigh is a whole different ball game. I certainly don’t wish to feel somebody or something hard brushing up against my hip.
I don’t smoke like a chimney nor do I drink like a fish. So what do I do if I were to actually go? I’m too uptight and self conscious to go dancing and I’m terribly clumsy. I would just be wrecking everybody’s fun if I were to be let loose on the dance floor.
It's not that I'm bias against clubs. It's just that there are so many dodgy characters there and sexual promiscuous people there. Imagine sitting at the counter and being hit on by drunkards who can't even discern their right hand from their left let alone distinguish guys from gals. I want to hook up with a sugar-daddy or mommy, not a recovering alcoholic with a liver damaged from cirrhosis or intravenous drug user.
Care to join me for a drink? Tempting huh? Haha.
