I Swear I'm Not Trying To Sleep With You: Part 2

Hahaha like I would ever.

That being said, the numbers are in.

It turns out I swear I'm not trying to sleep with you: part 1 received the second most hits I've ever gotten on a single blog post. The number one spot went to an angry tirade of a post speaking out against a controversial op-ed about Greek life last year. So I've come to some conclusions.

You people judge me for limiting my television choices to the Kardashians and the Bachelorette, however numbers tell me that you want to read about sex and drama way more than my oh so intellectual theories on NBC possibly being the CIA and Facebook stalking. At this rate I'll get thousands of hits just by titling a post "nude photos." You sick people!

Just kidding. I tried to force myself to buy The Economist today, which I figured would have something of minor intellectual merit in it. When I found out it was 8 dollars I threw a fit, told them to cancel it, and proceeded to hand the cashier 12 dollars worth of People and In Touch magazines.

... Yes if you are capable of simple math, that last statement made no sense. But it happened, and therefore I understand your desire to only read the posts of mine that are potentially raunchy or like, super dramatic.

Anyways, back to point. That last post was yes, sad. But that's simply the stress I go through at work. Going out is an entirely different ball game.

So as those of you close to me know, I am the biggest non-groupie DJ groupie there is. Translation: 

For me, living in NYC as an EDM lover is like a pizza loving bulimic girl staying in Italy for two months. The binging is bound to come down upon her hard and fast until she returns home to the sub-par lure of Dominos post Italy. With multiple shows every weekend compared to once a month in NC, you can bet I'll be at as many of them as possible- tiny black dress, in the DJ booth, and all. 

I don't know when the DJ booth crashing thing really started- maybe Australia? But it did, and now a show isn't complete without it. But the second I step into that booth, my overly defensive tendiences have a field day. 

My pictures clearly expose the fact that I walk into clubs wearing about 2 dollars worth of fabric and heels making me even a tall male's equal. But I'd like to note that I am facing an array of bouncers whose only form of power in life is to tell girls that they are too ugly to get into the club that is paying them minimum wage. I've seen it happen many times, and RIP any ounce of dignity or confidence I have the day it happens to me. So a girls gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

I put on my little black dress and heels, march into the DJ booth, and that's when the defensive monster within me is unleashed.

I'm usually staring around the club at rich dudes in suits and a mass of girls fighting over said rich dudes in suits. They are all wearing little black dresses like me. So basically to the outside world, I am one of them.

My very presence at the club is an indicator that I am probably, as the Jersey Shorers would say, DTF. As I enter the DJ booth, I'm not only DTF anymore. I've also become one of those status-chasing, needs attention, let me have your kid so I can have child support money kind of girls. (Okay I'm definitely being dramatic, but that's more fun anyways).

The defensive monster inside of me believes that everyone around me is making this assumption. Therefore, my anxious brain has come up with a number of security measures to be carried out upon my entrance to the DJ booth.

1. Use a word with more than 10 letters in it as quickly as possible. The easiest ones are usually stupid, and before you used that >10 letter word, there was a good chance that you were stupid and easy. Now the males in the vicinity aren't so sure.

2. Ask them about what led to their success. Basically conduct an informational interview with either DJ/or Publicist (usually target publicist, who could actually forward on your resume). This is when confusion typically permeates the person's face, but everyone loves talking about themselves so they comply and give me a life story. (At this point the person is probably wondering, why does this girl have more to say than "OMGGG I love this DJ sooo much"... she talks too much).  

3. Try to seem idle and throw in a casual laugh as you say something along the lines of, "yeah the little black dress usually makes people think I'm out to bang the DJ, but hahahah like I would ever. I'm just a fan of X DJ." At this point the person's face usually scrunches up because they don't know whether to point out that you've literally just announced to the world that you aren't going to sleep with anybody- without being asked or even prompted to think anyone is halfway interested, or to just continue the conversation. 

4. Sprinkle in a comment that exhibits your array of EDM knowledge, thus cementing outsiders' perception that- "This girl is here solely due to the devotion to this music." 

4. Defensive monster crawls back into his shell. Enjoy the show.

I think I feel the need to use my security guidelines because I'm truly so obsessed with this music that I want the others in the DJ booth to realize A. that I'm not a brainless party girl just looking to dance around in front of everyone (or bang the DJ) and B. how much not kicking me off stage means. Being up there is pretty much the coolest thing ever.

And maybe this post is part of my defensive monster coming out because I may or may not be worthy of the title "club rat" now that I'm living in NYC. But like the lesson I taught you in the last post- sometimes it's not about who you are, it's about what the outside world thinks of you. So now you know not to judge me on my little black dresses and excessive party photos.

And thus concludes "I swear I'm Not Trying To Sleep With You: Part 2."

Until next time,

F