In the Club; Some of us are not here to dance

Places that people go to for recreation and fun are like streams to me.

Some of us are there to bath, some, to swim, some are there to fetch water, but it’s the one same stream.

If anyone saw me last night, in my entirely blue party outfit, they could have sworn that I was going to tear the night to shreds. We went from one place to the other, and I liked the reminder, that Beer and peppered snails make a wonderful couple.

The crux of this, is the last club we ended up in. The chances that I would dance in a club are a four, on the one to ten scale. But remember, my blue outfit didn’t communicate this effectively.

I watched Kabiyesi laugh with his friends instead, I watched him tell one that I was tired, but that one came to insist on dancing. My apologies in arrears, Oga didn’t want to tell you I was shy, he didn’t want to tell you to not come and embarass me and you, with having to bear my clumsy and uncalculated steps.

“But you dance at your home parties!”

I laughed. “Have you not heard of comfort zone?”

Thank you letting me squeeze back into the seat, where my thoughts and I were having a totally wild party in my head.

I partied with thoughts of the juvenile boy in my front. His trousers were belted around his thighs, did nobody tell him that #TeamSagging was old school?  He puffed away, the gap between each drag closing in so fast I wondered how he was able to not choke himself. He took his whiskey raw, he took selfies at moments the glass or cigarette met his lips. I imagined these photos on his facebook page, I imagined the tag line #ClubbinTinz.

I partied with thoughts of the girl beside the wall. People do strange things, my lady danced with that wall like it was the finest man ever liveth. She ground her hips in the wall, turned around, placed her hands on the part of the wall she must have interpreted for his chest. She slow danced with that wall, she placed her cheeks against it one time and did a salsa. I tell you, people do strange things.

I partied with the curvy girl in my front. She gave erotic dances to anyone who desired. I looked around desperately for something to cover my eyes when she bent to her knees and took a man’s bulging crotch into her mouth, through his jeans. One guy caught my perplexed look and mouthed an explanation


I nodded in grateful understanding.

I partied with an interesting couple. As they danced, she gave him frequent hot slaps, he shoved her in return. Often times, he dragged her to her knees by the hair and back up. My iris dilated

“Where was security? Why was he hitting her like that!?”

I saw a gentleman walk up to them and try  to separate the scuffle. The girl wedged herself between her man and the intruder. I read her lips

“E concern you?”

I was taken aback on behalf of this person. She then turned back and gave her man another dirty slap, he dragged her by the hair again and they laughed and fell into each other’s arms.

Bdsm dance?

And just in case this is a not so new trend I have only just observed, forgive me people, I have been at home, changing diapers and emptying potties.

I partied with a young girl who seemed extremely wide eyed and excited at being there. I saw that she was unsure about dancing with the guys at first, but her friends urged her on and supplied her liquor. She reminded me of what peer pressure had been like for me in the past. I saw her get comfortable with one guy finally, she leaned into him with seeming trust. Maybe he was her crush. I saw her close her thighs in protest when he tried to run his fingers upwards, underneath her short gown. But she let him trace the outline of her breasts, she was excited when he held her waist firmly, she chuckled shyly when he kissed her neck. After a while, She held his hips firmly and ground it against her pelvis. This one’s virginity were bursting at the seams.

I partied with the thoughts of the overly bleached girl across the room. She was those ‘Look-at-me-I-am-a-woman-smoking-in-public-you-should-have-a-problem-with-it-but-i-dont-care’ kind of women. The problem with women sometimes is that they seek to prove things nobody has challenged them on. So she puffed, blowing her smoke into everyone’s face, willing us to notice her and her smoke. What a man can do, a woman can do better, yo! We took notes.

I partied with the thoughts of the wife forced to come and club, she seemed quite sleepy and upset with the entire environment. She sat down as well, I felt sorry for her. She stared at me, it seemed like an attempt to recognize kindred spirit. I disappointed her, I lowered my gaze and looked away.

“No, sister…” i thought in my head, “I am not bored or moody or upset, you have no idea the jolly moments I am savouring”

I told you people about streams at the beginning, some of us are not here to dance, we are there to look at all of you, to build and kill characters in our heads from your mannerisms.

It’s the morning after, I woke up late, and no, I don’t have a hangover…except that is the name these days, for waking with strings of sentences for fantastic fiction dancing before your very eyes.

We apologise for having our moments of introvertism at the expense of your extrovert moments, please forgive us brethren, observation no be crime.

So when next you see me screaming ‘TGIF’ and getting into party shorts and heels, don’t be fooled, some of us only bark, we can’t bite.

Olori Achalugo.


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