Thanksgiving Eve, New Year’s Eve, Memorial Day weekend, Tuesday. What do these have in common, besides being the days your grandma calls you? “No grandma, I’m not seeing anyone special”…Well, other than that “special guy” from down the hall who I fucked in the laundry room last weekend. No, these days are important because every betch knows that her presence at a nightclub is mandatory.
While betches are happy basically anywhere they can get drunk, clubs are especially near and dear to our hearts. Ever since that first dance floor hookup when we were just little Betches-in-Training going to teen clubs, we haven't been able to spend enough time in these raging temples of house music, drugs, and debauchery. So what’s so great about clubs?
Absolutely nothing. For the “of age” betch, nothing is more infuriating than the wrath of underlings trying to squeeze their skinny asses into a seat at your friend’s table. Maybe the fun lies in getting to see every fucking kid you’ve ever met at Lauren and Brittany’s Birthday Bash!!! Finding out you actually have zero degrees of separation with a stranger is pretty exciting for about half a second before you immediately stop caring.
So why do we keep going back for more? Simple answer. Exclusivity. While the crowd can sometimes be an annoyance, you realize that people you know are generally the fucking shit, so they would be at the same place as you. The mere thought of those less cool people clawing at the bouncer to show him their IDs makes our automatic entrance that much more special.
A classic comment overheard on the line at the door usually sounds something like… But it’s my friend Adam's 21st birthday and he has a table! He just BBMed me and told me I’m on the list!
Dream on fatty, everyone knows a purple BBM ain’t worth shit.
Honestly, what’s NOT to love about an establishment that screens its entrants so the ugly girls can’t come in and guys are only welcome if they buy tables and multiple bottles that you get to drink?
And then there’s always that one betch in your bestie group who, for whatever reason, does not get in. Maybe she started shit with the bouncer, who really knows? That sucks, but it’s not your fucking problem. Sorry, but everyone knows that once you get to the bouncer it’s every betch for herself. Meet you at the bar around the corner in 45 minutes!! …and 3 hours.
If you’re cool enough to make it past the front door, it’s time for the next challenge. BATHROOMS. The whole “you can’t have two people in the same stall” shit reallyyyy fucks with our sharing practices. We all know sharing isn’t betchy, but on club nights we make special arrangements, so please, dear bathroom attendant, just let me do my fucking thing. I’ll tip you five dollars over minimum wage!
As a betch, you’ll likely know at least two club promoters in whatever city you’re in who will constantly text you, pleading with you to come to the latest openings. Often these promoters are just bros from high school who are trying to avoid getting a real summer job. But who’s keeping track anyway!? He's promising you a night of free alcohol, possibly even dinner, along with the chance to meet hot guys and celebrities and dance the night away with your hottest besties! Those bros who bought a table will probably feel pretty cool since they’re hanging out with betches, but just remember that they’re basically paying $2,000 for this table just to have an excuse to talk to you. You thought your Balenciaga was an investment, this bro gets to spend almost 20 minutes with you!
A betch will tell you that the best clubs are in New York City or LA, followed by whatever city she #3 studied abroad in. In reality though, it's not about the city you're in, because just about every major city has sick clubs. The point is that the betch will always be found at the absolute hottest, most exclusive spot around. When you're stuck behind that velvet rope, the party won't be the only thing you're missing that night.
Even though we’re die hard club-goers, we realize that the experience can sometimes fucking suck. But no matter how much we might shit on them, we love clubs, we are clubs, and clubs would be nothing without betches to
fall dance all over their tables and couches. So, if you’re looking for one of us, we’ll probably be grinding the night away at the trendiest club of the moment, crossing our fingers that the Wall Street Bro getting us drunk was just joking about still living with his parents.