Back to the Music

I went to a show last night with a new friend, Shades, and some of his buddies. It was a show featuring a few bands in a club, I knew one of the bands. This was a part of my effort to go out and do things, instead of just saying I want to. It's always been a problem for me, and now that I'm single not buying groceries for two, I may as well enjoy the hot summer nights somewhere other than the apartment.

I struggled with my outfit. I don't have club-y clothing. I have conservative, baggy tops, and then some halter necks that show too much cleavage. I didn't want to show too much tit, but I didn't want to look like a loser in rags. I didn't want to attract attention, but I wanted to fit the part. I haven't gone out to have fun in a long time, apparently. Too, too long.

I spent too long fussing and ended up going with a solid spaghetti strap tank top, with a bra. I didn't want my nipple piercings to be conspicuous, even if I didn't expect cold environments. Not exciting, but it fit and I looked good.

The show was lovely. I got a couple free drinks from a few generous fellows and stepped back into the music, enjoyed myself, danced. Met more new people, got hit on by a few creepers. The typical night at a club, at least for me anyway. I always seem to fall into music when I'm going through a tough time. It's a pretty nice remedy, especially when you're right in front and the lead singer has a nice, airy button-down shirt halfway unbuttoned, so you can see the sweat running down his abs. That was quite the pick-me-up, haha.

I wish creepers wouldn't be the only ones to hit on me, though. I'm not even considering dating, but it would do my self-esteem wonders to have a nice, fit man give me a compliment. There was an attractive guy who tried to have an intellectual conversation about how to get a drink at the bar, but it didn't do it for me.

I'm only 22. I'm bound to get a compliment (and laid) before I die, right?