I know we’re all familiar with that special place referred to as the club. You often hear informal invitations saying, “hey are you going to the club tonight, it’s suppose to be crackin…” “Aye- you have to come fuck with it tonight, it’s suppose to be hella girls…” That sounds like something we usually hear on a Friday or Saturday night.

Well lets take a step back to re-examine a frequent pastime we all have enjoyed, that in retrospect may seem a bit bizarre. Webster’s Dictionary defines the word club as: an association of persons identified by some common characteristic. So on a very basic level according to the lovely Webster’s Dictionary, we are all connected at the club, but would you agree? Hmmm, not so fast, in fact I think everyone would disagree with that. You would like to think that you don’t have anything in common with that skanky girl behind you in line, or the dude with the played out attire and weak kicks. Well in fact, yes you do. The very fact that you’re at the club makes every single body in the room kind of…. (I wont label you, because that could be rude and offensive.) Innately my instinct calls for me to say WEAK. But I wont go there because hell you never know- I could end up at the club some time soon.

What usually happens on a Friday or Saturday night:

The car is packed with you and some of your main squeezes, the deck has some “slaps” (really awesome music- for those of you who don’t know) rolling out the speakers and unfortunately a random person who needed a ride ended up making everyone in the car squished. All participants in this epic adventure are pretty much shit-faced, excluding the driver I hope. Meanwhile, all members are absolutely unaware of the tragic purpose of the scene they are approaching. So you all pull up, and the line is not only ridiculously long, but the weather is not on your side either. Ladies with the hoochie dresses feel me on that one. As you wait in line, you’re passing judgment on every single being that graciously crosses path with your eyes. Next, your mind breaks people into essentially three categories: Dimes, competition, and non-competition. The dimes are the people who are on another plateau, they have more swag, and look better then you ever will (that’s just life, its inevitable). Dimes run the club. Why? Because not only does every girl who isn’t a dime want to be her, every single dude in the club wants her number- hell wants everything she offers. Then there is competition, the people who are in your league, you spite them because they have the ability to snatch the few people you really want in the club. Last, and yes least, are the people your mind places into the non-competition realm and these folks simply put- can’t fuck with you. Their galaxy is one that you would never want to fathom being associated with.

As your mind distinguishes the different groups of people in the club, your quick ability to just keep composure kicks in as that fine ass person walks by. To the dudes-you hurry and tell your boys, “dammmmnnn she looked sooo fine”. In this moment, you second guess yourself and think she is too good for you. Unbeknownst to you or your boys, she is right up your alley my friend. This girl isn’t too good for you at all. If she were, she wouldn’t be at the club, with the skimpy dress on wearing a ton of make-up on her face. To the fellas who stare at dimes the whole entire night, but never make move- just do it. It can’t hurt. Sometimes we’re so afraid of rejection that we miss out on some of the best opportunities that life can offer. I’m not saying that the chick is what life has to offer, but she definitely represents the chances you don’t take.

So I bet you’re still wondering… why the club is so bizarre?

Remember being at the club and dancing in a group just with your friends? Remember looking to your left and looking to your right and seeing every other group of people doing the EXACT same thing. Wait, the exact same thing. So what is the true purpose of going to the club? Is it to give hella dough to the owner who I have to admit is faulty because the music is never on point all night? It can’t be to make friends because in reality that’s just false. It can’t be to find your long lost soul mate because that just doesn’t happen. Think about that before you’re the person disseminating the news about the crackin club Friday night. Remember you can just have a dance fest at the crib and save the extra loot for some trees and fuck with your real peeps.

Ivie is a junior at Loyola Marymount University, and quite frankly she goes…