An Open Letter To Women Who Get Dressed Up And Go To Lounges To Stand Around And Mean Mug: Stay Home!
Is it just me, or do a lot of women these days seem to walk around with a chip on their shoulder? And not a bitter chip (I hate the B-word), but a “I-think-I’m-too-cute-and-you-need-to-worship-me-in this-bish” chip. I know I’m not the only person who has noticed this, and it’s most noticeable at a lounge on a Saturday night in New York City.
While helping to celebrate the birthday of a friend this past weekend, I noticed that there was a cast of colorful characters surrounding us in the fancy schmancy lounge we were in (which, may I add, was actually in the middle of the hood). As for the men, there were a few like the one who shared baby momma drama with a friend of mine within 10 minutes of talking to her; the guys who could rap whole songs with their heads down and backs to the walls; the extra buff dudes who think they’re God’s gift to women, and the extra crunk ones dancing for their freedom like the birthday boy I rode with. Hey, I was glad to see he had fun.
On the other side of the fence, there were very over…or make that under-dressed women catching the eye of everyone; the women who look like they just walked out of the office but still drop it like it’s hot; the two-step chicks in sky-high heels; the random hipsters, and of course, the three stooges I saw standing around and sitting with a mean mug all night long. One was a tall woman in even taller wedges who was dressed cute, but stood most of the time, fiddling through her phone. Her two friends included a chick with a blonde Cassie-esque hairstyle who barely nodded her head to the wide selection of music (how can you not find ONE song to like out of ’90s throwbacks, an hour of Soca, recent hits, and “She Got a Donk”!?), while the other, the leader of the pack it seems, sat like the queen bee in her leopard dress. Cute girl, cute haircut, but a permanent mean mug on her face.
When the birthday boy got a bit too comfortable on the dance floor and thought he’d turn on the charm to get one of them to get up and jam with him, he was met with even meaner mugs, some head shaking and a lot of negative whispering between the ladies after the fact. After an intense exchange, he turned around, rolled his eyes a little as he was irked for a second, and then proceeded back into his signature Salsa-meets-Dutty wine dance that had me laughing. When I looked over at the ladies, they were still talking crap about my friend, and for the rest of the night, proceeded to sit in their seats, not dancing, drinking every once in a blue moon, fiddling through their phones, watching other people have fun.
Note: WATCHING OTHER PEOPLE HAVE FUN.
After literally “shaking somethin’” to “She Got a Donk” for the second time, my tired legs couldn’t even sit down because the trio, who had done a whole lot of nothing the entire evening, were stuck to the comfy couches and damn near put a groove in them. I didn’t get their issue, and neither did my friend: “Who comes to the club and just stands around? I mean, seriously?” My boyfriend wasn’t too fond of their behavior either. When I told him I was going to do a piece based on their behavior, he claimed the ladies were looking for someone to worship them, and in a lounge that was filled with a bevvy of many beautiful women, uh, it ain’t happening.
When I asked the birthday boy later what the deal was, he said he asked them why they weren’t dancing and if they wanted to, and he caught the wrath as a response. I felt bad, but he had moved on, and actually boogied down the rest of the night with an equally crunk woman who could keep up. In his mind, the attitudes of the Three Stooges were the same reason they were sitting alone and were going to stay alone. In my mind, they were like many women I’ve seen go out and stay tighter than a tightrope when the dance floor is calling their name, or people are actually interested in meeting them. While they thought they were too cool for school and God’s gift to all who laid eyes upon them, they were doing a disservice to themselves by acting like the chicks from Hocus Pocus.
I’m not saying that every time a guy approaches you, you in turn have to be ready to bust out a move from Breakin’, nor do you have to spend a grip on alcohol just because you’re in an establishment, but why come out (and put on good clothes) if you’re going to keep an attitude on at all times? I have friends who won’t come out the house and hang out if they’re not in the right mood (“Girl, I’m upset now, I’m going to stay home because I’m not going to be any fun”), so when I see people ready to bust a vein in their forehead when somebody asks them why they don’t want to dance at all (and they’re not dancing with friends either), I don’t get it. You could have stayed at home and sat on the couch for free, boo.
In the quest to look cute and stay cute, there are too many of us (and don’t front) getting dolled up in the hopes that someone will catch our eye and that we will catch theirs. However, when we’re approached, some of us are too quick to act like Beetlejuice tapped us on the shoulder. If you’re approached in an inappropriate manner, then please put a brotha in check for his own benefit, but when you’re the one not coming correct and turn into Medusa, that’s not right. Not every request to dance has to turn into a juke fest, you can jam face to face with a guy for one song (or less than that) and sit down. You control how people will treat you. All I’m saying is, as the saying goes, “You attract more bees with honey than with vinegar.” So next time you think you want to spend the night sitting and mean mugging, then walk out telling everyone the spot is wack because YOU didn’t loosen up, do everybody a favor in the future and stay home. Those drinks and seats can be saved for those having a good time. Hey, I’m just saying.
Have you noticed people like this?
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