Dance Game, Part 1: Why the club is a terrible place to meet women

The club is a terrible place to meet women.  There, I said it.  If you want to just pump and dump with risk of venerable disease, be my guest, even blind mice find cheese every once in a while.

 

    In this part 1 of the dance game series, I’m presenting an argument that meeting women in the club for long term relationships – plate or LTR – is not advisable. Let’s start with the obvious: partner dancing is not clubbing, clubbing is not partner dancing. The entire premise of this Dance Game series will be based on partner dancing and I hope to convince you why.  Step one is to convince you the opposite is counter productive, or, at least, not productive.
    In order to do this, let’s set the club scene typical to most men.  You are not going to be the G in the VIP zone with the bottle service and bodyguards.  Let’s face it, if you were that rich you’d just use hookers and be done with it. In reality, best case scenario is fit, nice clothes, handsome with social proof.  When you walk into any nightclub, the bouncer probably doesn’t know you. You pay the sex tax cover charge and cram for a beer soaked table in view of the amateur stripper poles.
    The club is dark and loud with strobe lights flashing.  You can barely tell if the girl twerking against you has a tramp stamp or a whale tale or if you’re about to black out from the $100 worth of alcohol you just bought for yourself and her (how else did you expect a strange woman to be dry riding your dick?).
    Your mind, assaulted by the lights and music, struggles to focus on this goddess you managed to woo. Your eyes focus and you see the black blur is a tramp stamp. Upon further excruciating inspection you discover this woman is 25 lbs. overweight, her belly hanging out from her crop top as her friends shout encouragement to her.
    She spins around, her vodka cranberry spilling onto your shirt. You can smell the alcohol on her breath. Glancing down, she sports a breast cancer tattoo on breast.  You catch her as she stumbles into your arms, her friends laugh hysterically. You get her upright and the hot one comes over and rushes her away.
    Empty handed, you buy a new drink and go back to the floor.  You bounce between groups and try to find one to fit in. You tire and go back to find a table.  You brood for a while, trying the Dark Triad vibe.  No dice.
    It’s 3 am and you pay out.  $126 plus tip.  Wandering back, drunk and stumbling, you bump into a cute woman.  After a brief conversation you both decide drunk tacos sounds nice and wander off together.  30 minutes later you’re getting a blow job by this woman you don’t know.  You turn her over and masturbate with her pussy.  You fall asleep.
    Later that morning you struggle to wake.  You barely remember anything, let alone the name of the ham next to you.  Easily 40 lbs over weight, you recoil in horror.  The smell of her snatch permeates the room.  You can’t find the condom. Sneaking out, you run to the clinic for tests and necessary shots.
    Congratulations, sir. You got laid for 140 bucks and narrowly missed the clap.
    Alternatively, you pay out you $126 and go home to your right hand.
    TL;DR: you spend a lot of time, money, and effort in the attempt to get your dick wet on activities that are risky, limited in scope, and not conducive to friendships; not to mention the low quality fruit.

Effort correlates to reward.  

    Grinding isn’t hard. Flailing around looking like an idiot isn’t hard.  How many times do you watch people dance in the club and go “wow! that is really neat!”.  My sample size of n=1 is about once every 100 times.
    How many times do you watch a girl dance in a club and go “wow! she is really hot!”.  My sample size of n=1 is about 25 times every night.
    Notice those are mutually exclusive.  Hot girls don’t have to dance well.  Beef jerky is thrown at cows, image being actually desirable.
    Backing up, put yourself back in the club where you were probably this past weekend and find that hot girl.  Who is she with?  Dollars to donuts she is either:
  1. with friends
  2. with an attractive guy
The fix is simple:
Step 1: be fit and attractive.
Step 2: be attractive to her.
andi-rieger-578190-unsplash
    The crux of this entire argument is the realization that you are dancing to be attractive to her.  You flail around like an idiot because that is what everyone else is doing and you are measuring dicks to them.  Spoiler: you’re average or sub par just like those guys in the above picture.
    Get a proverbial penis stretcher and learn to dance.  The confidence and internal frame of knowing  you are the best dancer in the room is an instant advantage.
    We all know some size queens girls who filter men by height, length, and girth.  Same goes for dancing.  Get good enough, and your physical appearance is secondary to your ability to make her swoon.  More on this in Part 2.
    You stand there like a sack of meat and let a fat girl twerk against you for the Gram but that does not correlate to you getting laid.  Every woman twerks and they do it indiscriminately.  You can be the most AFC Soyboi in the club sporting weak legs, shorts, and flip flops and she’ll still twerk on you – for validation from her friends.
    Ditch the system. Swim against the current to fertile waters. Take the hard road for long term rewards.  Be sexy and know it.
    In Part 2 I’ll address the inverse of this argument on why you should even make the effort to learn to dance.

3 thoughts on “Dance Game, Part 1: Why the club is a terrible place to meet women

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