The Legality of Dance!

My good friend, Ross basically forces himself onto girls through the art of dance. What he told me is that, “When you force yourself onto someone through dance, this is not date rape. It’s a boogie.” Put the same motions on a girl as you would on the dance floor, the exact same touching, groping, and suffocation, without music, without anybody around, in a dark alley, and this will land you behind the walls of the state penitentiary for 12-18 years. But on the dance floor, it’s just another Saturday night. Approaching a strange woman on the streets and dry humping her leg = assault and sexual harassment. Dancing up to a woman (in a dance club) and dry humping the shit out of her gets you her number and a hi five from your friends followed by five minutes of chanting Kappa Sigma rules! This is why dancing is so confusing; same action, same movements, touching in all the same areas, but yet completely different results. Take the number of relationships which start from dancing and compare that number with the amount of relationships which get started with assault and battery and I think you’ll see my point. How did dancing turn into this phenomenon?

There are other things in life that confuse me as well. Right now, like thousands of others across the country, I am writing this blog in a café. I have coffee at home as well as a coffee machine. I actually drove to this coffee establishment. Not on my way to work or anything—there was no reason to be out of my house. In fact, it’s raining. I left my home, where I have coffee and a coffee machine to go to a place, wait in a line, and pay for a 300% more expensive, yet totally similar tasting cup of Joe. How am I allowed to do this? If an Alien saw me do this, I would be completely embarrassed.

Thank God for humans.

I can sort of understand why people go to Starbucks because they make coffee products with whip cream. I can’t do that at home. I mean I could buy the whip cream, but whenever I do I feel a bit kinky. “No this is for coffee, not toes.” I have to explain to the man with the furry mustache. He gives me a “yeah, that’s what they all say” type of look. So it goes.

Coffee places are one thing, but I am really confused with popularity of bars or taverns or establishments where people get their “crunk” on. The establishment itself is not as confusing as the concept behind it. Bars were pretty much around for two reasons;

A) To starts revolutions and the Marine Corps. This happened when a bunch of proactive Eagles fans in Philadelphia decided soccer is not a real sport and that America should be free from England and Manchester United. Note: America couldn’t have gotten started in a tavern in Pittsburgh, Boston, Ann Arbor, Columbus, or Queens because future sports franchises’ in those cities suck. Note: Fly Eagles Fly! Lets Go State!

And the second reason for the establishment of taverns is;

B) To pick up women.

Both, starting an independent revolution from England and picking up women are tough feats, but after years of fighting and bloodshed, both opposite parties (England and Women) will eventually give in.

The problem with revolutions/women is that, as I said before, they both take a lot of time and there will be many battles lost before you win the war with either. Right now for me, the red coats are winning…

When you are out of college and away from the grateful world of girls not having many standards or expectations, single men have to meet girls in bars where they are only given a brief few sentences to make an impression. The first has to be solid. This is what we in the business call a ‘pick up line’. Now the problem with pick up lines is that the girl knows you are using a pick up line. So what you have to do is use a pick up line that doesn’t seem like a pick up line. This is where I fail.

Whenever I go to speak with a strange woman in a bar I feel as though they know what I am up to—like I’m tying to get away with something. I mean, their right. I don’t need to know if they have any new perspectives about the domestic economic polices or how to get a milk stain out of corduroy pants, I can Google those things; all I want from a strange woman is to obtain a set of numbers which allow me to contact this strange woman so that one day she won’t be strange…and we can make out. They know it. I know it. The bartender knows it, yet our conversation is stricken to Miller Lite and the weather.

Chapter Two:

Sometimes we go to the bars as married or relationshipped people and sometimes we go “just to dance with our girlfriends.” And this is what I really can’t comprehend—which confuses me because I do the exact same thing. I go to the bar sometimes, not to pick up women or plan a fight with England, but to simply hang out with my cronies. But why? Why do I do this? Why do we as a society do this? I’ll go to a bar and buy a $6 Miller Lite and tip the bartender, just so I can sit and scream at my friends so they can hear me over the blasting Lady Gaga song. This seems even more absurd than the coffee place. I don’t want to talk to anybody. I don’t want to hear any theories or details of life and world; I just want to hang out with my friends. I enjoy the fact that there are people sitting around the bar, but I don’t want to talk to any of them. In bars people kind of become ornaments; nice to have around but I don’t want to bother with them. In order to make drinking seem more reasonable, for some eccentric reason, we like to drink around people (but not with them).

We live life to make life more comfortable. So drink up.

And if you are a woman sitting at the bar and you’re not starting a revolution, don’t get upset if a guy comes up to you and tells you your hair smells nice.

Chuck 0ut.