I endured the experience as an underage teenager so I could drink beer. But every club night since has made my heart sink
What’s the opposite of a bucket list? I have a fast-growing list of things I’m more than happy to live out my days without ever doing again. Top of this list is going to a nightclub. I will never go to a nightclub again. I hate nightclubs; I have always hated nightclubs. If I were in my teens now, I would have hated this week’s reopening. After more than a year of having an excuse not to go clubbing, I’d have been forced back into it. I’ve been scanning the pictures of nightclub scenes, looking for the young me standing awkwardly to one side, making a poor
Job of disguising his desperation for the evening to end.
Nightclubs are terrible places. They’re only suitable for people who are good-looking and/or competent dancers. I have never been either of these things. All I’ve ever had going for me was my chat, and whatever flair I had for that deserted me when it came to girls.