In da club?

So you know how I had plans last night? (If not, see previous post. And keep more up-to-date on my life in the future. I won’t tell you again. (Just kidding! I will tell you again!)) Well, I was told to meet some friends in midtown Manhattan at a place called BLGD NYC or something equally obscure and not-at-all-descriptive.

It turned out to be a club.

I wore a cardigan. NO ONE TOLD ME WHERE WE WERE GOING. (…ok, it probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway…)

Sidenote: You know I’m a nerd, right? I know it’s pretty well known, but you didn’t know about the plans last night, so…I can’t trust you anymore. Ok, now you’re caught up. /Sidenote.

It also happened to be the type of club that’s so cool it doesn’t even have a sign out front. Just a line. And a few bouncers.

Let’s be honest, I probably wouldn’t have even gotten in (or thought to go) if one of my friends hadn’t known the DJ. But he did. And I went. And got in.

I want to preface my next statement by saying I actually had a lot of fun. The people I was with were cool, and I even got to dance a bit. And you know how I feel about dancing.

But it has to be said: I am just not cool enough to be in a club. (Unless it’s a book club. In which case, I fit right in.)

To illustrate my point, here’s a conversation I had with one of the guys I was with:

Me – You guys, I don’t think I dressed slutty enough to fit in here.

Friend – Justine, do you even own clothes like that?

Me -*hangs head in shame* No.

So, lesson learned. Go shopping before going to a club. Also, look up where the skanky stores are. Just in case.

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