You Motherf*ckers Don't Know How to Act

So last night I went to a goth club in Providence. Yeah, I know, it's odd that my Justin Timberlake, Kelly Clarkson, Indigo Girls-lovin' self ended up swathed from head-to-toe in black, driving one hundred miles roundtrip for a goth club. But my friend's burlesque troupe, the Dazzling Dames, had their first show last night and I didn't want to miss it. I drove down in a Zipcar Honda Fit (which sucked mightily, by the by) and walked in.

When I was in high school, a lot of my friends tended to sway goth. My prom dress was bought at Bedlam, a gothy-punk clothing store in Providence. (It looked really good.) I wore my Doc Martens with the dress, much to the chagrin of my grandmother. ("Do you need money? I will buy you any other pair of shoes if you don't wear those boots.") Since then, something happened to me and I became a J. Crew-loving fool. But I will always have a place in my heart for the goths.

The DJ who played before the Dazzling Dames came on was actually good. I usually don't get into techno music because of its redundancy, but I enjoyed the variety of beats he spun. Girls in corsets and guys in utilikilts danced enthusiastically. My friend came up to me in fishnet stockings and a skirt made of beads to say hello. She introduced me to her least-gothy friends, I got a Gansett tall boy for $2.50, and she ran off to get ready for the show.

One of her less-gothy friends lived in the dorm I lived in at URI, so I talked to him and his girlfriend for a while. His friend, James, was the guy that gets a preamble. You know how couples have single friends that they really wish would have somebody to date? James was that guy. After being introduced to James, URI-guy's girlfriend whispered "James is really a great guy if you're interested" into my ear. I hate that. If I have a question, I'll ask. If I'm interested, he'll know it. But James seemed nice enough, so I chatted with him for a few minutes.

"Can I get you guys something?" James asked his friends. They replied yes. Then he turned to me and asked if I wanted another Gansett.

This is the problem I have with men in Boston: they are cheap and aggressive. Sorry. Whenever I leave the 128 belt, I get offered drinks by guys who don't skeeve me out. Last weekend, I went to the Unlocal in Brookline, and saw one cute Irish boy who kept staring at my friends and I but never approached us. There was also the guy in his mid-to-late-thirties who kept staring at us, and eventually came over to Steph and said "you are just so beautiful, stunning..." immediately after he said hello. I am sick of guys verbally (or physically) humping my friends and thinking it's okay. Say hello. Ask me how I am first. If I give you short answers, I'm not interested, carry on. If I keep talking, then you may proceed to lavish praise upon me. I was impressed that James bought me the beer, chatted with me, then didn't try to pry my phone number off of me. I said goodnight, he gave me a quick hug and said it was nice to meet me.

Let's put it this way: He gets the Dunkin Donuts Gift Card Award for Civility.