Thursday May 8th, 2003
Goth club
My eyes adjust to the darkness as a German song with lots of bass is pounding through the open air. The walls are home to a mosaic pattern of old fetish videos and the only one I recognize is fetish model Betty Page. (This is thanks entirely to random downloading from Kazaa.) I trudge through a sea of corsets and spiked collars to my friend already ordering at the bar. This of course is my first visit to the gothic fetish night club, "Perversion."
Hard to believe, but I wasn't that popular in high school. I hung around a few people who were of the "Gothic" style and I had a crush for several years on a very cool, intelligent, and attractive friend of mine who happened to be goth. We never dated but I developed an appreciation and attraction for the look and style. To date I've never dated a goth chick. I've been to a couple clubs and I've found that in the English language the words "Intelligent goth" go together about as often as, "Tasty rat droppings."
Why did I go to the goth club than? Three reasons.
1. I'm desperate. I'm going to try to make an effort every day to pick someone up. It should help with my shyness and social skills as well as give me a better chance of success. You figure you miss all the shots you don't take.
2. Some of the girls are extremely hot. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the appeal of fishnets, corsets, and girls wearing nothing above the waist but duct tape.
3. The club has a photographer who takes pictures each week. The photos should be linked HERE when it's up.
(Amendment 9/06: The site that originally had these pictures posted has since taken them down, as such the link was taken down as well.)
The biggest problem with going to the goth bar is the overwhelming delusion and stupidity that goes hand and hand with a large group of people from the bottom rung of the social ladder. One guy was wearing a top hat, cape, cane, and had fake fangs. (I later found out he hates to be referred to as Count Chocula.) Another individual was wearing a suit of armor. It's so much like Halloween that when my friend suggested we go I was thinking we should dress up as a clown and a ninja and look at everyone and just keep saying, "Oh my god another Dracula? What are the chances? Wait a minute, they're all Dracula! Except for that guy I think he's Elton John."
Goth chicks have no middle ground. If you were to rate any of the following human characteristic, (Attractiveness, intelligence, ability to be interesting, uniqueness, ect.) on a scale of one to ten, then average people are usually in the four to seven range with the exceptionally good and bad being one to three or eight to ten. Goths don't have a middle range. They are ones, twos, nines, and tens. A gothic chick either has a face that's less appealing than eating a urine snow cone or she's so hot you start telling your friends what body appendage you'd be willing to give up to sleep with her. She either has a masters in physics or got to the club late because she forgot how to work the door knob on the trailer, again. Sadly there are about ten snow cone retards for every one super model physicist.
I spent the first hour sitting back and watching everyone around me. Next to me I see a thin frame, long black dress, long black hair, lipstick, nail polish, and enough make-up to re-spackle a house. Overhearing a conversation I find out his name is Eric. It's hard enough trying to figure who's single and who's taken without having to guess gender as well. I start a conversation with a girl at the bar. She's wearing a fishnet shirt with black "X's" in duct tape over her nipples. Few guys sport a D-cup so I'm pretty sure I'm safe. I find out her name is "Gelfling" and she believes she was Joan of Arc in a past life. It's definitely one of the most interesting conversations I've had in a while and she's hot so despite the dull pain I get in the back of my head being in the presence of such stupidity I keep talking to her.
She lives in Venice, works as a stripper, and is going to school to be a chef. Midway through a sentence several people walk up to us and tell her it's time to go. I don't know why you'd pay $10 each and leave a club at midnight, but off they went. I rejoined my friend on the smoking patio as he was getting his nicotine fix. He tells me about a girl who looks just like Faruza Bulk (an actress he has a crush on) who was so stupid she couldn't pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel. Despite his incredible attraction to her he had to get away from her. We then have a half hour conversation about why every goth chick thinks that in a former life they were either Joan of arc or Cleopatra's cat.We decide that the best way to go is to find a group of two. That way if either of them has interest in either of us the other can keep the friend busy by being a "Wing man." After five minutes we see two girls with bob haircuts in lingerie. One looks like a gothic Natalie Portman with tattoos and piercings, the other like a slightly thinner Kelly Osborne. He chose scissors, I chose paper, so he got Natalie and I got Kelly. After two rounds of drinks my friend and Natalie got up to dance to German screaming. This left me with Kelly. Now my physical standards are not exactly the highest. Of course every guy wants an underwear model but that's not realistic. I was thinking that maybe she'd be funny or intelligent or have any other redeeming characteristic that I could latch on to, sadly there were none. Another ten minutes and I was convinced she was one of those types who thinks she's Wiccan because she saw the movie "The Craft." The night ends watching mysterious vampires get into their VW beetles and driving off to the Ihop on Sunset Blvd.
Amendment: (As of 6/14/03) It has recently come to my attention that "Perversion" has its own weblog and they have started a thread about this journal entry. For those interested in seeing what the goths in attendance thought about my journal I have placed a link to the blog below.
Perversion Forum
