they call me mack rap-a-licious
what we dranking, we dranking it all
we gon' do it till we can't or we fall
last call!

Good times last night. A small group of us went to a part of downtown that I hadn't been to before. The first club we went to was disappointing. I'd heard good things about it, but it was too... lacking in sexy. Pale orange walls topped off by a ceiling way too high. I felt like I was sitting in a bowl of orange jell-o. Or in a daycare center, which frankly, is not the way you wanna feel when you're out for a night of debauchery. Find me the den of iniquity, not the daycare center! This place might be suitable for a PG-rated girls' night out, but otherwise utterly devoid of sexy, debauchery, philander, or any other redeeming quality.

Second club was much better, and finally a place here that plays the music I love to dance to. Everybody else here seems to be into techno. I. Hate. Techno. Hate hate hate. If it's not clear: I do not heart techno. I hate dancing to techno even more. I was never a little raver-baby waving glo-sticks around. I love a solid beat that shakes the entire building, something I can really move to. Dancing to good rap is something I haven't done since I left Austin (one of my favorite memories: Sean's fingers on my skin as the two of us moved together to 50 Cent. Damn that boy could dance), and it's something I genuinely miss. I really think I'd like this city a lot better if there were somewhere we could regularly go booty-dance after beering up at other bars.

I met my first non-law school boy at the second club. A pharmacist, and so much cuter than that sounds. One of the most frustrating things about law school is that we're so insulated. It's nearly impossible to meet anybody on "The Outside." We've been going out three nights a week pretty consistently, and yet-- I can count on one hand the number of times I've talked to a non-law school guy. This is the first one that I didn't walk away from in a matter of seconds.

The Pharmacist pulled me in by my scarf, and we danced for what seemed like forever before he grabbed my hand and led me over to a couch. I gave the Pharmacist my number, and... I hope he calls. I was definitely on last night, truly laying down the flirt, but... I kinda clicked with him. It's generally my policy not to give my number to guys I meet in bars because it can only lead to bad things; usually, I tell them I'll be right back, and then I disappear into the crowd, not to be seen again. I wanted the Pharmacist to have my number. The guys I was there with howled as I wrote my number down on a napkin. I just grinned.

The third club we went to was between the first two in terms of atmosphere. Lots of deep reds, which I always like. A 2L that I'd flirted with one night last semester was there. Florida led me over to him and got the two of us talking again, which I was excited about at first. This guy is only kinda cute, but he dresses well, and I was a little interested. Except it turns out that he's a total asshole. WHOOPS!

When I met him last semester, he bought Florida and I shots, we talked for awhile, and then I drifted off to hang with friends. When we were leaving, I went over to say goodbye to him, and he tried to get me to come with him and his friends to the casinos. I explained that I had an 8:30 AM meeting with my Writing professor, I was tired, and I didn't want to go. He started getting really aggressive about it, to the point of really turning me off. Florida walked up, and he started telling her to convince me to go with him. I leaned over to Florida and said in a low voice, "He's cute, but mean."

Florida promptly turned to the 2L and yelled, "My friend says you're cute but you're mean!"

"Huh??" He hadn't heard.

She raised her voice even more and yelled slowly, "She says you're CUTE... but MEAN!"

I laughed, and we started walking out. He grabbed my hand, and as I looked back at him, said, "Cute but mean?"

I smiled, laughed, told him, "Cute... but mean," and left. I didn't see him again until last night.

I revise my assessment to, "Cute and GO THE HELL AWAY." Or--
Cute, but insufferable. Cute, but with a total attitude problem. Cute, but I can't deal with talking to you for more than 3 minutes at a time because you're fucking obnoxious.

God. I hope I don't see that kid again. Good riddance.

After the third club closed, we went back to a friend's, ate pizza and talked (okay, gossiped) until 6. It felt so good to crawl to finally crawl my bed. I wish I'd slept more than four hours, but at least I'm not too hungover.