By Chris Zivalich
Let’s face it: You go to dance clubs to get laid.
Okay, okay. I’ll reconsider such a direct assumption. Maybe you yourself go for different reasons—reasons you quantify at a “higher” value of morality.
After all, a night at the club usually promises hours on end of digitized pop music, hundreds of burned calories and a pair of decidedly exhausted feet; it’s not all about the predetermined sex!
However, while many people may go clubbing with alternative motives in mind, most go to make out, hook up or, at the very least, rhythmically hump the first stranger they find who meets their minimum standards of attraction.
In all honesty, this is not the type of behavior with which I have a problem. People fuck. It’s a fact of life. It doesn’t matter to me if a person chooses to meet someone at a dance club and accept a subsequent evening of awkward sex. Who has the right to judge the sexual appetites and conduct of others?
Well, none of us really. Nevertheless, while I may refrain from placing the most notably horny dance club patrons into a moral hierarchy to gauge their level of licentious tendencies, there is one habit I absolutely hate that manifests itself at dance clubs all across the world:
Men who think they have automatic ownership of a woman’s body.
You know what I’m talking about, ladies. No matter which club you’re at, anytime a woman decides to wear something mildly revealing or dance sexually, men find it their patriarchal duty to dance with them—and not in the most “gentlemanly” fashion, either.
Allow me to briefly paint a picture: smacking females’ butts like an old man on Viagra. Not what you’ve experienced? How about men rubbing up against women like a dog cashing in on every last gyration before the dreaded trip to get neutered? Sound familiar?
Men somehow believe they receive inherent control over a female dance partner only because she’s in front of them, and it’s utterly ridiculous! If they recognized women as humans rather than objects, don’t you think they would try speaking to them like humans first? You know, before immediately groping and grinding?
Alas, they don’t consider more suitable ways to get a girl: “eye-fucking,” casual conversations, the thought of asking whether they would like to dance. You know, all that typical “mutual, voluntary human interaction” bullshit. Look, assuming you can touch whatever you want suggests you own whatever you’re touching. I hate to break it to you men, but you don’t own women.
How is it possible that we continue to live in such a blatantly and ruthlessly sexist society? Can’t women go out with their friends and be treated with respect and dignity?
How would men feel if the tables were turned? What if women just decided that they could walk up to any man they wish and dance on him until his friends awkwardly pulled him away or sandwiched themselves in between to prevent further attempted humpage?
True, some bolder females out there might actually take part in such reversed power structures, but they hardly commit to them insofar as men, most of whom render women subserviently available until rejected.
Think about it! What if women behaved synonymously to prove a point? The answer is clear: We need to do something. Here’s the plan as I see it, ladies:
When you go to nightclubs, don’t simply wait for every guy within a five-foot radius to initiate his inept techniques at flirtation. Go to him first!
Don’t adhere to their socially constructed “masculine” needs by dancing with them! Dance on every man you see! Grab their crotches! Rub their chests as if you’re searching for an out-of-place bone. Follow them when they move! Try to make out with them (if you’re feeling especially lucky) despite their circle of friends who are clearly and undoubtedly sending you ardent signals of a big fat “NO!”
Although this might not seem like the most authentically feminist response to alleviate sexist realities in our society, it will at least allow you to force a different perspective on someone else, which is always a wonderful idea when done under the sultry lyrics of “Bad Romance.”
So gather your strongest cohort of equally eager women and head to the nearest club to stalk, squeeze, stroke and startle every uninformed piece of oppressive man-meat you can find!
Chris Zivalich is a sophomore journalism major who says you should just dance, gonna be ok, da-da-doo doo-mmm. E-mail him at email@example.com.