Holy Fetish NightClub Batman!

I’ve always said I’m an advocate of the new, strange, and different. So it’s no coincidence that I’m still hitting the online sites every once in a while in search of something I wouldn’t always find frequenting my regular spots. I can honestly say I’ve dated the gamut of different types of women and will probably continue to do so until someone hits the right balance.
I think dating all walks of life builds experience and promotes character; from enjoying the ones with Mohawks that have daddy issues and love BDSM (B&D- bondage & discipline; Dominance & Submission; and SM- sadism and masochism) to experimenting with the girls next store. It’s tough to zero in on a type because I just happen to like a little variety in my life. I’m the guy that purchases the variety pack when the option is given and I don’t think that makes me a bad person. Of course, this is a lead-in to one of the strangest and worst dates I’ve ever been on in my history of dating.
This story isn’t fully appreciated unless you know the events that preceded it. It all starts with an online dating site that is a bit different from Match.com OkCupid, or perhaps eHarmony.com. No, this site brings together a different part of society that still holds its place firmly in the “underground.” I’m of course talking about the kinksters/fetish lifestyles scene. Like the majority of the population, most of my friends are unaware of that sites for people with alternative lifestyles and different definitions of sexuality exist. And if they are, they aren’t joining them. As I began to dip into this lifestyle and meet people, I always asked the folks I met “why are you here?” Most everyone says the same thing initially, “someone introduced me to the lifestyle and recommended the site.”
My experience has been that shortly after that, you could expect to get a handful of different clarifications for their interest in the “kink scene.” Most people say something like:
“My regular relationships/sex life was too vanilla”“I was tired of getting the same thing wherever I went.””I’m just more self actualized and know what I like. And most people have a hard time participating in what I like.”

“The media and accessibility of sexuality in our culture simply has me looking for more because I want to explore what else is out there.”

Whatever my reason may be outside of general curiosity, I found myself getting more engaged on one of these sites. I created a profile and made an effort to throw together a humble, coherent, and thoughtful self description. I then set off compiling a list of curiosities/turn-ons and turn offs. After seeing some of the other profiles that seemed a little aggressive, I decided to post a handful of PG rated pictures to gain some credibility and separate myself a little from the overly sexualized and perverted pack. It wasn’t long after I created my profile on this site that I started to receive messages.
I usually stand by the rational that as a male I should seldom if ever be sending the initial message as to avoid being labeled the stereotypical “creeper.” Despite even the best of my intentions, women hold a fair amount of skepticism when the male made first contact. During my first few months, when I received a message from a person that seemed relatively attractive and reasonably intelligent I’d message them back and forth until I either lost interest or we would actually met up.
I’ll set the record straight and start by saying I didn’t meet up with droves of people. In all reality, I met with maybe 10-15 people over the span of 2 years. And just “meeting” implies that I grabbed coffee or a drink at the bar with them. That’s not to say I didn’t talk with more, it just means that both parties had to see a mutual attraction and perused the curiosity far enough to see where it went. Keep in mind there is a limited talent pool to work with as well. Most people that find these sites are little older, more likely to be socially awkward (or just crazy) than the rest of society, and more often out of shape. I could go into lengthy detail about my justifications for making these judgments but I’ll just leave it at that for the time being. Out of my dozen or so in-person meet ups, most of them were bad experiences but every once in a while a pleasant surprise would appear.
This brings me to my most recent meet up with a 25 year old girl from this site.
I had come across her profile while surfing the site and did a brief read of her fetishes:
“Into: accents (receiving), anal beads (everything to do with it), anal sex (receiving), appealing to my brain, as well as my body., ass play (everything to do with it), belt spanking (giving), biting (everything to do with it), blindfolds (everything to do with it), blow jobs (giving), body worship (receiving), bondage tape (everything to do with it), bruises (receiving), butt plugs (everything to do with it), choking (receiving), corsets (wearing), costumes/dressing-up (wearing), dildos (everything to do with it), domination (giving), double penetration (everything to do with it), erotic photography (everything to do with it), fingering (everything to do with it), flirting (everything to do with it), forced orgasms (receiving), hair pulling (everything to do with it), high heels (wearing), holding her to the bed by her wrists (receiving), humiliation (giving), intelligence, kissing (everything to do with it), kissing a beautiful woman’s legs (receiving), leaving marks (everything to do with it), lingerie (wearing), masturbation, mens hairless chests, moaning, screaming, groaning and other sounds of pleasure and pain (everything to do with it), morning sex before work, multiple orgasms (everything to do with it), mutual respect, trust and communication., oral sex (everything to do with it), orgasm denial (everything to do with it), piercings (watching others wear), polyamory (everything to do with it), porn (everything to do with it), rimming (everything to do with it), rough sex (everything to do with it), scratching (giving), seduction (giving), talking dirty (everything to do with it), tattoos (everything to do with it), teasing (everything to do with it), threesomes (everything to do with it), toys (everything to do with it), vibrators (everything to do with it), waking up to your tongue in my cunt”
After reading that impressive and colorfully unusual list of fetishes, I sent her a message with a few lines that said something to the effect of, “You seem like the interesting type, I’d imagine we could get along. Let me know if you’d like to grab a drink sometime.”
It wasn’t my best work, but I never know how to establish contact on these things because quite frankly I haven’t the slightest clue what I’m getting myself into. She responded positively and we began to converse over messages for a week.
We finally both agreed to meet up for a happy hour in Arlington on Cinqo de Mayo. Cinqo De Mayo is another drinking holiday without the prestige and class of St. Patrick’s Day.
 She said she wasn’t exactly sure what time she would be able to make it out to grab a drink so I sent her a message the morning of saying, “I know I sent you my number but I don’t have yours. It might be a good idea for me to have it in case something comes up and I end up somewhere else given that cinqo de mayo lends itself to a little bar hopping.”
Her response was, “Do you have an iphone or a droid so you can send me a message via the website while you’re out?”
Needless to say I wasn’t interested in playing silly games. I understand the concept of a girl’s gotta be careful now-a-days, I really do. But if you’re going to meet someone for happy hour, while you don’t fully know what they look like, and plans could rapidly change; having the cell phone number of the person you’re meeting will serve a purpose. I went to a total of 4 different bars with my friends that day and sent her a message saying where we were headed after we left each one.
I finally got a response at the end of the night around 11:00, “I’m just now leaving dupont (DC); can we just meet another time?”
Unimpressed, I waited 3 days to e-mail her back. Once again, we chatted back and forth for a bit and finally we both agreed on a second go-around. We set a time and place in Arlington. I received a message from her saying she was in the bar so I walked around for 10 minutes feeling ridiculous trying to look for a girl sitting by herself. Eventually I sat down and sent her a message explaining that I couldn’t find her. Another 10 minutes passed before I received a response from her explaining that she had gone to a bar in DC with the same name and was heading towards Arlington, where I was. Although I was annoyed, I said it was fine and went to go meet friends at a different bar in the nearby area. I grabbed a few beers with the boys and stifled my frustrations about the whole predicament. Although I was tempted to blow this girl off for being so difficult, my buddies encouraged me to relax and go with it.
She eventually got over her fear of cell phone communication and called me 30 minutes later to tell me she had just parked and would be there be there shortly.
I came back to our meeting spot and ordered two drinks while I waited for her arrival. A few minutes later, a surprisingly attractive brunette with short hair dressed conservatively in office attire walked in.
She strolled right up to me with a smile, “Taylor?”
I got up and gave her big a hug, “Well look who decided to show up, look at you?!” I said looking her up and down, “You like great.”
She shrugged, “Thanks,” she said without reciprocating the compliment.
I hate to come off too needy, but I am plenty capable of reading into personalities based on the handling of little social niceties. Not that I wasn’t already drawing conclusions based on how difficult she had made our meet-up but I generally don’t like non-compliment-reciprocators®. It translates to a “ME-ME-ME” mindset which usually proves to cut across all aspects of their character. It means a person is generally unimpressed by anything that doesn’t involve them, so that’s a cue to talk as little about you as possible. There is usually an unreasonably high self esteem that requires constant reinforcement. If you know that selfishness is the norm when it comes to everything (including sex) and how to counter it, a good time can still be had. These people deeply hold a sense of insecurities and will do anything to avoid exposing that tender part. I’ve encountered these types many times before, just pretend to be “somewhat” unimpressed by their successes and ask more questions about their short comings with what seems like genuine interest. This has them spending the entire evening trying to prove themselves to you without spending much time boring them on topics like…. anything else…Kind of fucking morbid that I can read these people isn’t?
We grabbed a seat outside and spent the majority of the time talking about her life. Any time I tried to share something about myself she would lose eye contact and appear bored. To her credit she had confidence, ambition, and an open mind. After I managed to steer the conversation off the topic of her, I actually began to have a good time. We chatted for nearly 3 hours when I eventually hinted at how late it was getting. I asked her if she would be up for going out on Friday for something a little more date-like. I recommended we check out a place in Logan Circle that had an amazing 7 Piece house band that cranked out old mo-town songs by artist like Same Cooke, James Brown, and the Temptations. She liked the idea and although I wasn’t totally sold on her, I was willing to give her a shot.
I walked her back to her car in the parking garage and went in for the hug and held it just long enough to create some tension and then I leaned in for a kiss. She kept aggressively biting the tip of my tongue and I wasn’t sure if that was her way of being sexy or she just didn’t know what she was doing. I laughed a little and kept going. Pretty soon she had clinched onto a fist full of my hair and yanked my head back. Not to be outdone, I did the same and sunk my teeth into her lower neck, just above her shoulder. She had wrapped a leg around mine as her dress slid nearly up to her waist. A few people walked by with undoubtedly funny looks on their faces. She was the rough type, I didn’t mind.
“It’s a shame we’re both not going back your place tonight.” I said.
She pulled back a little. “Well I didn’t invite you yet.”
“Oh right,” I said, “You’re the one with the hang ups about proper procedure and bar etiquette. You said only sluts make out at bars right?”
She leaned in and kissed my neck then my ear, “We’re not at a bar anymore. Are we?” she whispered.
“Interesting, point.” I said rubbing her waist and pulling her in closer. “It could be a lot of fun.”
“Well I’m waiting for my period to be over, so it’s probably a no-go for tonight anyway.” She said pulling back a little and resting her hands on my shoulders.
“I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that boys don’t get periods, besides I don’t fuck on the first date… I’m a classy guy.” I said winking at her with a debonair smile.
“Well I do have a pit-bull at home, he’s not always so nice.”
“That’s ok,” I said. “I like dogs, even the mean ones.”
“I don’t know, I’m just not sold.” she said. “What do I get out of it?”
“You did say you own a lot of toys and I’d imagine there’s a laundry list of things I could think of doing that might just be worth it.”
“Other people can’t get me off using my toys.” She stammered.
“I’m not other people and at least I’m willing to give it a shot.”
I thought about it for a minute, it was already 11:00 and I knew that if I played my cards right on this one we could start a regular thing after the second date goes well. The vast majority of first night conquests I’ve had never have a re-occurring follow up because I have a habit of losing interest.
“Well it’s late anyways; I’m fine with meeting up on Friday and having a whole night to decide whether or not our amazing time merits sex or something like it. Let’s just shoot for a great Friday.” I said backing up slowly and letting her hands fall down by her sides. “I had a great time tonight.”
“Yeah ok, I did too.” She said smiling getting into her car.
We had exchanged a few texts throughout the week and had established that we were still going to the live music lounge that we talked about earlier in the week.

Until I received a text from her asking if I’d rather cancel the plans we had made and go to a fetish/swinger party in Baltimore instead. I’m just as open minded as the next guy but I had never been to one of these before. Sure I had heard about them and maybe I was even a little curious about going, but I’d never gone purely for the reason that I just didn’t see myself being comfortable in that environment.
I could only assume this was an odd way of testing my resolve to be the open guy I made myself out to be. It appeared she was testing me to see if I was cool with doing new things and perhaps I really had a higher threshold of “weird.” I don’t scare easily, so I responded with a question of logistics hoping to shake the idea of hitting a fetish scene for a second date.
She messaged me moments later about a similar kinky club in DC that had a sexy zombie theme going on in North East around 10:00. I agreed to go, and asked what to wear to one of these things. She said, “I’m going in a black corset, meet you there at 10?”
This didn’t help me understand what I should be wearing to a fetish night club and furthermore I was hoping we could grab a few drinks and ease into this very new experience as a team first. I texted her my reservations about the idea but she steamrolled right through them, with “You’re a big boy, I’m sure you’ll be able to figure something out.”
So there I was, unsure of what the night was to bring; about to head into a very bad part of the city to an unfamiliar place and meet a girl I knew just as little about. Being that I would be embarking on such new territory figuratively and metaphorically, I decided to meet some friends at a bar for some liquid and moral encouragement beforehand. I got dressed in dark blue jeans, polished black leather dress shoes, a dark black fitting dress shirt, and a nice dark pin stripped sports coat. This attire would be fitting for most any club anywhere and I was hoping it would do the trick for me at the fetish night club.
I picked up a pack of smokes and would use them to excuse myself from any strange situation if I felt uncomfortable and possibly smoke to make new friends outside the establishment without much difficulty. I’m great at making friends in smoking circles, isn’t everybody? You’re an instant friend and hero if you give someone a cigarette or a lighter these days. I bought an energy drink to give me the silver tongue and fend off any form of “talker’s-block” I might get in a new environment. I even picked up a handful of miniature bottles of whiskey and jager in case my nerves got the best of me and I needed more liquid encouragement.
I was prepared and it looked like it going to happen.
I met my friends beforehand at a dive bar in Arlington and told them about my fast approaching adventure to North East (NE) Washington, DC (DC). My plan for the evening was met by some strong criticism and humor. The concern over the rough part of town was equally criticized by the skepticism of legitimacy of such an event. I downed my first shot and second shot of the night with a couple of friends and followed those with two tall jack-and-cokes. I got some last words of encouragement from my friends and headed to the metro. I eased into my pump-up zone as I chugged my energy drink during the handful of minutes I spent waiting on the platform for the train. I had a mild buzz going from the whiskey and I was nervous and excited all at once for a night of new experiences.
Once on the train I sent my date a text to let her know I was on my way and I wanted to be sure she was equally as excited. “I’ll be there soon, tonight should be fun!”
I made it to my transfer point. Due to a metro delay and construction I sent another text saying I was running behind. My nerves were starting to get the better part of me. I hadn’t received any responses yet. By the time I got on the second train I should have already been to the fetish night club, half an hour had gone by due to the running of trains on single tracks. My bladder was so full I was having difficulty walking. I was starting to wonder if she was going to show up at all. I really hoped I hadn’t gone all this way just to be stood up. She didn’t have the best track record so far.
When I finally got off the train at closest stop to the New York Ave metro stop in NE DC, my bladder was so full I considered risking blowing off my dick by pissing on the tracks potentially hitting the 3rd rail with my steam. But I held it in. I got off the elevated outdoor platform and hurried down to the street below. The area was sketchy, so once I made it down to the street it was pretty clear that no businesses existed where someone could just pop in and use the bathroom quickly. I took an immediate turn and saw a rough looking neighborhood coming up on my right. Bingo! As I approached the first poorly lit street of run down houses and old offices, everywhere around me looked like a great place to stop and pee. I walked up between a few cars parked near an abandoned warehouse and unbuckled my belt. I could tell I only had mere seconds to get this pee started or I was going to ruin my jeans.
I sent a strong stream into the bricks near a black escalade when I heard the door to the building next to me swing open as I hunched slightly and continue to pee on the bricks just out of sight of whoever was at the door way.
“WHHHHHHAAARFFF!” A fat black man violently puked in a wrenching fashion a few yards away. Lucky for me, he was too drunk and unable to see me due to the vehicle being in his line of sight. I almost burst into laughter watching a grown man power-washing the sidewalk with his stomach contents. I so badly wanted to say something like, “Hey man, we’re trying to keep this place nice.” I finished up and snuck away back the way I came.
I picked a general direction as I got my phone out and tried to locate where I was on my GPS. I realized I’m in the heart of a very bad neighborhood and my phone won’t give me any indication as to where I actually am. It kept telling me that I was downtown (nearly 5 miles away) and I knew that wasn’t right. I walked a little ways and found a gay guy walking his two dogs and asked him for directions. He was dismissive and somewhat confused by my questions, he said he didn’t know where either of the streets I was looking for were aas he hurried along. I later found out that I was only 3 blocks from both of the roads I had asked about. As he was leaving he turned to say, “I recommend that you find a cab, you don’t want to be lost in this neighborhood, especially dressed the way you are.”
Meanwhile, unlucky for me there just weren’t cabs in that neighborhood. It’s not that kind of place for it. I was starting to get increasingly apprehensive about the entire thing because I couldn’t seem to figure out where anything was and my GPS still wasn’t working.
Frustrated and pissed, I picked a direction and began walking. If I passed through a few intersections I could likely get my bearings and right myself towards where I needed to be.
Just then my pocket vibrated and I discover a text from the girl, “I’m here at the fetish club, you here?”
“Just a little turned around and had a delayed train, I’m on my way.” I wrote back.
She had drove her car that night, so it’s not like I could have asked her for directions from the metro and I didn’t want her to think I was incapable of finding my own way.
I continued walking the same direction I had first picked as I hadn’t come across another intersection yet and I hoped that my GPS would kick in soon or maybe a cab would find me before that.
As I approached a large overpass, I spotted a man in dirty clothes on the other side of the street heading the opposite direction talking loudly and angrily to himself. I thought little of it as I got closer to the overpass. I got closer and realized a group of 15-20 gangster looking kids between the ages of 12-15 were under it already walking my direction. “Eyes forward and walk straight.” I said to myself. It’s not that I’m assuming everyone who dresses like a gangster was going to try something, but I was in the wrong part of town in an unfamiliar area dressed like someone that had money in their wallet. It wasn’t smart or safe.
As I started to pass these kids, I spotted a “little john” black tear tattoo on one of the ones in the front under his right eye. The little thug couldn’t have been older than 15. How ridiculous. I was passing the last few and I thought I was in the clear when I heard things hitting the ground around me. A beer can wizzed by my head and hit the street next to me “TING-TING…TING.” These children were throwing garbage at me And there was nothing I could do but continue on forward.
It’s not like I can take on 20 of them and besides they’re a bunch of kids. Laughter burst out among them as I kept walking and before I knew it, they were far behind me and I was out of the tunnel onto a new street. I pulled out my phone again, what luck! My GPS was working and said I’d gone 3 blocks the wrong way but I could still get to the Kink night club if I walked six blocks up and one to the right.
I felt like I could relax a little more as I knew where to go now so I pulled out a miniature bottle of liquor and downed it as I walked parallel with a major road. “If I just stayed on major roads, I’d be ok.” I kept thinking positive thought as the area had gotten increasingly seedy and I was the only person walking on the sidewalks now.
I approached the intersection I was supposed to walk through and I spotted a sign on top of a huge barrier blocking the entire sidewalk. “Sidewalk closed for pedestrians take detour” it read with an arrow heading to a poorly lit street. Cars were coming too fast on the four lane highway for me to chance getting hit by staying on the shoulder.
“Mother fucker…this shit is getting old!” I stammered out loud.
I tried to flag down a few cabs while I debated on biting the bullet and taking the poorly lit detour route. After 5 minutes and my failure to stop any cabs, I opened up my GPS and charted my next route. At least I won’t get lost if I get mugged.
When I finally arrived at the last straight away of four blocks; my arms just kind of dropped to my sides and I stood for a moment in astonishment. It was a long strip of abandoned rough looking warehouses. It’s laughable how ghetto it was. All the buildings were crumbling, lighting was scarce, everything was filthy, rusted, and boarded up. The entire scene looked like a scene for a post apocalyptic movie with the exception of the vehicles parked in no particular fashion or order at different parts of the streets. I lit a cigarette and continued started walking. I passed empty lots filled with trash that were enclosed by fences topped with razor wire. The only place that had decent lighting anywhere for what looked like a mile was an unmarked night club. There were actually people waiting in front of the door with about 15 black guys and a few groups of guys hanging around their cars watching me as I walked alone on the other side of the street.
I heard one guy a group of black guys a little ways behind me say to his friend, “Yo, Look-look-look!” I tried not to look over but I could hear at least two sets of feet begin to follow me. I had no desire to deal with this, and the last thing I planned on doing was looking behind me because that might antagonize these guys. I was already extremely stressed out and this was in no way making the situation better. I looked further up the road and spotted a group of 3 older bums ahead of me just hanging out. I increased my speed and took long quick strides in their direction.
“What’s up fellas?!” I said loudly as I approached.
They glanced up as I pullws my pack of cigarettes out and put one into my mouth. “Would anybody like a smoke? I gotta get rid of these things.”
As I stated earlier, instant friends are made over cigarettes. I handed the first bump who was seated a cigarette as I pulled my lighter out and turn my head nonchalantly to see that the three ghetto guys following me had stopped and were now talking but still facing me while I handed out two more cigarettes. By the time I got the third homeless mans cigarette lit the three guys that were following me had turned around and were walking back the other direction. I can’t be sure that they were absolutely trying to follow me, but I’m willing to bet that if they were, they likely assumed I was one of the regulars here and they opted to leave me alone. I gave out a few more cigs, told the bums to have a good night, and kept going.
I was nearly overwhelmed by that point but my GPS said I was practically there. Besides, I knew that once I got inside, I’d be fine. I got onto the right street and as I approached the door, two nice looking girls about my age walking up from the opposite direction at practically the same time.
“Are you guys here for the event too?” I asked pulling out a victory cigarette from my pack as I neared the door.
“Yeah we’re a little late.” One of them said laughing a little as the other knocked on the door.
A black guy opened the door and said, “This is not the entrance. Ya’ll have to go around back.”
The girls and I looked at one another and shrugged as we headed towards the back of the building. As we continued to walk we exchanged names and where we were from.
“I’ve never been to one of these before; I guess it’s my first time.” I said chuckling.
They look at each other and laughed, “We’ve never been here either.” one of them said sounding a bit relieved.
“How did you guys hear about this thing anyway?” I asked.
“Facebook!” They both said almost in unison.
I laughed a little. “Yeah me too! I joined the event on there just before I left this afternoon.”
We got up to the back door and I let the girls go first, “I’m actually meeting someone here. I’m going to finish my cigarette but I’ll see you guys inside.”
I waved to them as the bouncer checked their IDs inside the doorway. One of them turned to wave as and the door shut behind her. I could hear the heavy base of the music outside and noticed a few of the people standing around the outside were smokers. Most of them were dressed in dark outfits and I didn’t feel like I was majorly out of place yet.
About 30 seconds went by and the two girls burst out the door with bewildered looks on their faces.
“That was fast?!” I said loudly.
“This is not the Stevie Wonder tribute concert!” One of exclaimed loudly as they walked past me quickly, “It’s some gross swingers thing!”
Both of them seemed disgusted. They grimaced at me and the other people standing around outside.
I laughed as they power walked past me, “Shit I thought I was lost. Come back if you change your mind, have a good night girls!”

(They event they were looking for turned out to be here)

I flicked my cigarette, got my ID checked, climbed some steps, and paid my cover to a chubby pale girl at the door. I could hear rob zombie music pumping loudly behind the heavy wooden door next to me. I took a deep breath, pulled the door open, and stepped in. I was inside for all of a few seconds and my initial reaction took the form of disappointment, not fear, not surprise, not even confusion; disappointment. There were maybe 25 people clinging around the edges of what can only be described as two small basement sized dance floors and a small bar area. The ratio was about even but it was hard to tell because a lot of people were dressed in dark colors. What was worse was that a lot of these people were not what I would even consider traditionally attractive. The vast majority of women were fat older pale chicks in leather corsets with too much make-up on and the guys were a varying spectrum of long haired pot-bellied older men in diapers to miniaturized twinks with leather straps around their torso. I’m not sure what I had in mind, but I was more grossed out than else. These were the folks that looked like they were in the drama or goth group in high school and never grew up. Imagine if the People of Wal-Mart got together for an event in DC. That’s pretty much what I was looking at.
 I don’t know if I can emphasize this enough, this was a crowd that had not grown out of the “look at me does this make you uncomfortable” phase of their childhood. I’m not sure what I had imagined, but this just wasn’t it. I walked up the bar and ordered a whiskey coke from the  attractive dominatrix looking woman behind the bar. “$9” she said.

“Fucking great.” I said under my breath. I cringed as I handed her the money then turned and posted up on the bar facing the dance floor. Out of the shadows came a familiar face.
“You finally made it!” yelled out the girl I came to meet.
As she came in for a big hug I could see not only was she wearing a small low cut corset but she had decided to wear nothing below the waist except for a leather thong, fishnets, garter belt, and high heels. She looked very well put together. Oddly enough I noticed she had something in her hand. She was holding onto a leash. I followed the length of the leash with my eyes to see that it was attached to a studded collar. I pulled back my gaze to see the collar was around the fat neck of a gross looking girl wearing a tight fitting corset that did little to pull-in her big belly but it did push her fat titties into her double chin and neck. She was wearing zombie make-up and overall was just a terrible display of humanity. I looked her up and down more inquisitively than anything else and limply shook hands with “it.”
“Sorry about the lateness! “I yelled over the music. “A lot of weird stuff happened!”
“What?!” She yelled. “I can’t hear you!”
“Show me around, I’ve never been here!” I yelled into her ear.
She pulled back, “OK! Let’s go to the jellyfish room!”
Running with the fat zombie girl on a leash, I casually followed them to an area where neon lights had been placed atop a bunch of long strips of cloudy styrofoam. The styrofoam was hung vertically from the ceiling and as it cascaded to the floor it caught some of the neon lighting that hung above it. The effect of this display was supposed to be somewhat of a wider jelly fish tentacles hanging down. The styrofoam itself was flat but also wide and opaque, so that you couldn’t see much else besides strips of this stuff under a greenish glow. The two girls started to dance and giggle inside the “jellyfish area” and I marked this as the moment I began feeling slightly out of place. I don’t know how to dance to Rob Zombie’s music and even if I did, I wouldn’t do so in an odd formation of hanging styrofoam. I started to try and dance when I noticed that parts of the foam were damp due to sweaty people parading in and out of the area.
“HEY!” I said finding her in the weeds of the styrofoam mess. “I’m a little stressed after my trip getting here. I’m going to burn a cigarette outside.”
“You smoke?!” She said giving me a face. “Yeah sometimes, we talked about this. I do when I drink and when I’m feeling stressed; And right now that’s both.”
I turned around and walked past a few old guys, cross dressers, and more fat chicks to get out of the main door leading downstairs and outside. I pulled out my cigarettes and took a deep breath as I leaned up against a cool brick wall and sparked a cigarette. This was not what I had expected. I hadn’t really properly mentally prepared myself for this thing. I usually can make friends wherever I go but this wasn’t my crowd. Despite all that, I didn’t realize that I wasn’t going to have a partner in crime and I’d have to try and socialize on my own in this environment. I couldn’t have accounted for how unappealing and awkward the other strange people there were going to be. It was 11:15 and I knew I had to give this thing a fair shake given the terrible situations I’d already endured just getting there. I managed to make a few friends outside while trying to clear my head. I had a good conversation who two odd gay guys and a couple in their 40s that had been swinging for years, they seem like relatively well grounded people given the circumstances.

I came back up to the club level and found my date chatting with a fat guy in a trench coat, another ugly fat dominatrix girl, a tranny, and a short gay guy.
“Hey have a drink with me,” I said loudly over the music as I pulled her into me. “I feel a little out of place here.”
“Why? Isn’t it fun?!” she said smiling.
“I’m not sure about fun, but it is interesting and very different. Maybe I’m just not dressed the part? I thought there would be more people or maybe just more fun looking people.” I said with a less raised voice pointing at a guy wearing a diaper.
“We’re going to be here for a while.” She said leaning inwards talking into my ear, “Maybe you should have worn something kinkier?”
“I mean I could go shirtless, but I’m not sure that’s really the way it works in here.”
“Go for it,” she said with a grin.
I glanced around and unbuttoned my shirt and slid it off then pulled my white tang top over my head. “I hope I don’t attract the wrong kind of attention in my new outfit,” I said looking at the tranny who was now staring intently at me.
“I’m sure it’s fine!” She yelled into my ear over the music.

I got our drinks and tried to participate in the dull conversation with her and her odd friends without any luck. Instead of leaning in to try and hear what was being said over the annoying electronica music I just began zoning out and people watching. If this were a bar or even a house party I probably would have left long ago due to lack of talent and abundance of boring people. By midnight there were still only about 25 people hanging out and there was nothing worth looking at besides the girl I came to meet. What was more interesting was that nobody was dancing and the vast majority of the people were standing in groups of two or three often not even talking, just looking around at each other.
“Let’s go!” I hear as she grabbed my arm and we walked with the entire new group she’d met to the empty dance floor.
“Here, hold my drink.” She said pushing the drink into my hand and turning her back to me to start dancing with her ugly dominatrix female friend.
I have never been nor will never be, “that guy.” I’m not a cup holder or a coffee table. And I’m not the guy that sits and watches other people have fun with the person I have dibs on. It’s not like I’m the jealous type, I just don’t take a back seat role in social situations. I’m not going to sit around and look pitiful in the hopes that my date might remember I’m still here when she gets thirsty. I was starting to get bothered. I took a few large gulps from her drink then put it down on top of the speaker.
Scanning the room for potential sources of entertainment, I came up with nothing. I can ordinarily pick out the needle in the haystack and make my date jealous but this time it wasn’t going to happen. The 40 and up creepy crowd had began eying the girls on the dance floor in a humorously pervy manor. I made a few attempts to get a conversation going with the people off to the side of the dance floor around me with absolutely no success.
“How many of these have you been to?”
“Which one is your friend?”
“Do people normally not drink during these things?”
“Where’s the after party?”
“Hey that’s an interesting outfit, is this normal for a Friday?”
“Are you guys vampires that sparkle in the sun or douche bags that don’t know how to meet normal women?”
These people were generally uninteresting borderline autistic people who didn’t have the social awareness or know-how to hold conversations in normal bars. Some of us watched the movie napoleon dynamite in high school these guys were napoleon dynamite in high school. The few blips of conversation I did get into were more of a bragging contest with fat chicks about how “kinky” they really were. Something about a fat chick bragging about being tied up a lot is just not appealing. I wanted to say, “If you spent so much time being tied up how is it that you’ve seemingly been able to locate food so easily?”
Eventually I placed my nearly empty drink beside hers on the speaker and walked up to my date on the dance floor.
“I was hoping we could dance at some point.” I say pressing closer to her and cutting the fat girl out of the circle.
I’ve never been a bad dancer and I know I’m good at making people look sleazy; so it wasn’t hard to impress the audience that night. We danced for one odd hardcore rock song and once it ended the DJ put on something that nobody could really move to so the area cleared out relatively quickly.
By the time we stepped away from the dance area my date and her fat ugly dominatrix friend had already began talking again. After I stood around for a while longer, I decided I wasn’t going to try and make anymore conversation with the weird people around me due to my last five failed attempts. I found my jacket and grabbed the only remaining miniature bottle of whiskey of four out of the breast pocket and headed outside for a smoke break.
It was starting to get late and I was getting frustrated. I’m a conversationalist when I go out. I don’t have to be the center of attention; I just enjoy genuine conversation that goes somewhere. I had a reasonably decent conversation over the span of three hours the first time I sat down with this girl at a bar in Arlington. That night, I maybe had the accumulation of five minutes if you count the stuff I couldn’t hear. Furthermore, I was getting tired and the alcohol wasn’t making me more social anymore, I was just getting more drunk. I could tell I was starting to slur my words, shortly after trying to talk to some guys outside. I knew in my mind that I’d had enough. I had a decision to make. If I stayed I might be able to sort this one out and do my best to have fun for the remaining time and then fix things once it was all over. If I told my date I wanted to leave now, she might tell me to walk back to the metro alone and think of me as a poor sport. But seeing as how my date had driven, if I were able to charm her enough I might be able to convince her to leave now so I wouldn’t have to walk back through the ghetto and I could potentially get laid when we got back to her place.
This party wasn’t getting any better and it by no means getting any earlier. It was already 1:45 AM.
I went back inside and found her on the dance floor with a slim but ugly horse face girl with fake dragon wings on her back.
“Hey, how do you feel about getting out of here?” I said loudly doing my best to avoid slurring.
“You smell like smoke, gross.” She said reeling back.
“Thanks. I had to find an activity that allowed me to engage people. I was getting bored of walking around silently like most of the other people here. There’s nothing cool about seeing the same fat people mill around every 5 minutes while saying nothing.” I said with some conviction.
She was not amused. “Ok. Well, I’m not leaving. The metro is only four blocks away. I am under no circumstances having sex with you tonight, so maybe you should just head home now.” She proclaimed.
“Wait what?!” I shouted. “I’ve done my best to be a team player here. I’ve never been to one of these before. This isn’t my zone. I’ve tried very hard to enjoy myself but I haven’t really been able to talk to you for more than a few seconds at a time. At least let me ride with you back to Northern Virginia.”
“Well whose fault is that, you kept leaving for smoke breaks.” She touted.
“Well yeah, I didn’t have much in common with these people and it’s not as though they have anything to say much less a personality.” I said glaring at the stone faced fat guy staring at us longingly while leaning against a wall.
“Listen,” I said frustrated, “I chose something nice for our second date so that we both could have fun and be comfortable. This was a far cry from what I wanted. I am not comfortable here.” I said resting my hands on my hips and giving her strong eye contact.
“Well first off, this is not a date.” She started,”I don’t know where you got that idea. Second, I wasn’t in the mood to do anything stupid like a mo-town music night. Maybe we can do the lounge/dance thing next weekend if I still like you.”
“How is this not a date? Wait- What?!” I said appalled. “You don’t know what I’ve been through getting here, I really just don’t want to do that walk back to the metro and besides I’d rather not miss the train if it’s avoidable.”
“I’m not having sex with you. Sasha (the fat dominatrix) and I are going to McDonald’s anyways. We can hang out next week. Would you like that?” She said glancing behind me at the dance floor looking at her fat friend Sasha who was waiting impatiently.
“I don’t know if I want that, this has been a big mistake. I really have had a terrible evening out with you tonight.” I said looking her up and down. “I’m not being unreasonable here; I’ve come a long way out of my comfort zone to show you I’m not afraid to do anything but this has been a disaster. This place sucks. I’ve had an awful time. And a lot of it is your fault for taking me here where clearly they cater to pretty girls.”
“Then why did you even come in the first place? Why didn’t you just say no?” She said throwing her hands up.
“Because I assumed you were trying to test my level of openness. Women are idiots and do shit like this all the time!” I exclaimed.
“Are you drunk?” She said looking at me like a slob.
“Of course I am? How else am I supposed to enjoy something as lame as this?” I shouted again half grinning.
“Figures,” she said. “Well I’m still not giving you a ride.”
“I really wanted you to turn out partially normal,” I mumbled as she watched me walk over to grab my coat. “Enjoy all of this!” I yelled walking out while making grand motions towards the fat tyrannies standing with a morbidly obese woman in leather by the door as if to say, “go fuck these people and yourself.”
There was no turning back and once on the street I knew I had a limited amount of time to get to the train because they would surely stop running soon. Looking at my GPS, I decided to stick with well lit main roads on my walking route to the metro station. There’s absolutely no reason to end this night in a bad way if I didn’t have to. I got about a block away when I spotted a familiar sign. Sidewalk closed to pedestrians, detour this way.”
I didn’t have time to try and figure out a new route and certainly didn’t want to deal with the abandoned warehouse area again if I could avoid it. So I decided to ignore the sign and hoped that I could somehow manage to make it around the closed off area regardless of whether or not the sidewalk would allow for it. I walked right past the detour sign on top of the blocked sidewalk area and I soon found myself stepping over used hypodermic needles on a closed poorly lit sidewalk near a highway over pass. The further I got along, the more I questioned my initial decision. Once realizing I’d have to walk into on-coming traffic to get to the New York ave metro I made the hard decision of going back the way I came. As I turned around I suddenly noticed two shadowy figures stepping onto the sidewalk ahead of me.
Of course this would happen. The two crack heads likely lived down the embankment of the closed off sidewalk area and had seen me coming and knew that I would have to turn around to come back the way I came.
“Hey man, give me $5 dollars” called out a drunk crackhead. His fat bum friend followed behind him.
Expecting me to pay up as I walked closer, I tried to circumvent them by using the standard line, “I don’t have any money.”
As I went to side step around them, the crackhead and his friend mirrored my angle. “Give me five bucks,” crowed the man through his missing and blackened teeth.
 I was fed up and drunk. I didn’t need this, not now. Without much hesitation I shifted my weight and threw a hard right into his chest. A loud hollow “THUD!” echoed in the air for moment. The man fell backwards onto his butt as I squared off with my fists up and eyed his friend.
The shorter fat bum took two big steps back with both arms up in the air and said, “Hey that’s ok man.”
I sideways walked a few yards keeping an eye on the man getting off the ground and the fat guy scratching his head. Once far enough along I turned and hurried my pace, I knew I only had a few minutes left to catch the last train out of North East or I’d have a whole new category of problems to come.
I power-walked past all the commotion of a few ghetto clubs getting out and made it all the way to the metro station. I ran up to the booth next to the turnstiles, “Has the last train left yet?” I shouted at the metro worker inside the small office.
“That’s it right now, you might be able to catch it,” the old man said pointing upwards. I looked up to see the train pulling away from the station as it heading into the tunnel ahead.
“Yeah thanks.” I said running my fingers through my hair and turning around to stare at a vacant street.
I would eventually chase down a cab that would bring me back to Arlington for $45. It was one of those deep inner analysis car rides where you question how many decisions you could have made that would lead you to encounter so many odd circumstances all in one night. How many of those choices could have been made differently to produce a better outcome than what I had ultimately come to. When he dropped me off, I lit up a cigarette in disbelief of my entire experience. When I finished tracing my steps of the entire night for the final time, I remembered a friend had invited me to come bowling that night instead. Can you really imagine how mundane my life would be if I gave up an evening like tonight for something safe, plain, and predictable. “No thanks.” I said out-loud flicking my cigarette into the street. “I’ll take my chances with road less traveled.”

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