Drunk On Words

Clubbing is not my favorite activity to do on a Friday night (or any night, for that matter). There are too many people jumping and humping at the same time, combined with ultra loud music, dancing-induced sweat and alcohol. To the majority of the young adult population, it is one hell of a good time. To me, it means bathing in a pool of stranger sweat, swollen feet, hangover and an empty wallet (clubs are expensive, man!).

The experience of going to a club gets more complicated and traumatic when you are single. Men smell singleness. They know what a female surrounded by two to three other females ordering and paying drinks by themselves means, and, usually, decide to make the approach. “Hey, what are you drinking?” they typically ask, to what the woman often answers with the name of a fruity, pink drink like: “Cosmopolitan”. One drink, two drinks, three drinks, and you are on the dance floor, grinding your behind with a stranger who probably lied to you about his name, where he studies and what he majors in (true story).

Needless to say, the next day you might not even remember the guy who you kissed the night before, and all you have left are blurred memories of before you ordered that Cosmopolitan from hell. That’s what we get from the men who give drinks: hangover, bad memories and run out mascara from the day before.

But there’s another breed of men out there, you know?

They are the men who give books. These men can be found deeply immersed in their latest literary acquisition and drinking coffee at the nearest bookstore. Most importantly (ignoring the cliché I just provided you with), they are the ones who don’t mind discussing with you weird theories about evolution or the government’s control on public opinion. In fact, they are often the ones who bring out the topic. Some may not even read books, but they enjoy hearing you talk about the last novel you read.

A man who gives books leaves a different print on you. Now, you have 500 pages full of words, adventures, philosophy, love or history that will contribute to your intellectual development. That man, not only knows your interests, but also wants to invest in your personal growth, point of view and well- based opinions.

Since reaching 17, I’ve gotten to experience both types of men. And yes, I must confess there is a fun part in dancing with a stranger at a club. It can be taken as a form of exercise as you burn mad calories, plus you get to forget about all the schoolwork you have for Monday during, at least, four hours. But personally, I would trade a body-con dress and high heels for a good book and a stimulating conversation any day. Drunk on words, my friends.

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