The above reddit post reflects some reality. It was taken from a post about hobbies that are meant to get you laid. But bear in mind the one comment I highlighted. Sounds nice?
The other night I got home rather late to find a flatmate melted into the sofa, not doing much of anything. We chatted for a bit, and I bellyached that I needed to finish up some moronic homework for a phonology class I was taking. She incentivized me to finish it by offering a beer at the club club on the condition that I finished it within the hour.
I finished it in thirty five minutes.
So we took a walk to the local club. My flatmate went right to the bar and I hung back and people watched as she purchased the beer. The whole club was full, and full for the most part with foreign nationals. But as I looked around I noticed something pretty haunting about this packed club; every one in it, was ugly. This isn’t some kind of hyperbole. In fact, the whole establishment reminded me of what I imagine a pub might have looked like in the dark ages. By the pool table, a tall blonde woman wielded a cue in a threatening manner, perhaps accentuated by the fact that she had a herculean upper body build. She might have struck me as being the pretties thing there, were it not for the fact that I was convinced she would pound my face in at any minutes. She was playing pool with several Arabs, the one which was closest to me leaned over the table and exposing his fat, pimply ass to the whole world. In a far corner a woman who for some reason was wearing her pajamas was curled up on a sofa in the corner while smoking a hookah. Her face so thickly carpeted in acne that they way it abruptly ended at her cleavage made that whole thing look like someone’s sick idea of a Halloween mask.
Something walks in with long blond hair pulled back in a high, taut ponytail. Its sweater is opened in the middle revealing a tight green t-shirt covering a pronounced bouncing bosom. The face holds no facial hair, but the jaw is squarish, and heroic.
Once I had established that this person was indeed a man, the words ‘basement dweller’ flooded my mind, and I am sure I could have some kind of kinship with him if I approached asking for his dankest memes.
About the nicest thing I could saw about the populace there was that there was an extremely dull looking blond, dressed to look like a Mormon missionary who, having lost her way, happened into this club by some cruel twist of fate and could now never leave.
It dawned on me that I had somehow managed to enter Charles Xavier’s mutant nightclub. But these incidents always make you wonder if they there isn’t some cruel design of the universe that has put you in there. With dread you wonder, am I some normal who is getting the tour of the watering hole where the freaks meet, or have they finally opened their doors to welcome me in as one of their numbers?
I drank my beer and was quickly and made an exit, happy to be out of there once I had.
But then I saw that thread on reddit. I guess its all fun and games until the curtain rises and you see everyone for the ford focus that they really are. Sure, ford focuses (ford foci?) may be exotic here, but the truth of the matter is that you start to see through that. And the other side of that door is horrifying.