The Roxy

For the first time ever, I went to a club on Thursday night. As the only person planning on remaining sober, I had been assigned the job of picking out a club. Problem was, it needed to be a club that might be universally liked by those going, most of whom wanted to dance. After searching for over an hour, I selected a club called The Roxy. It had decent reviews, was within walking distance, and supposedly was a good place to go with a group of people. On our way over, it started to pour. By the time we got there, I was the only one who could be said to have parts of me that were dry (I being the only one who brought an umbrella). The bouncer let us in, and we walked down a narrow flight of steps into the club. It's a very unassuming club, with the bar to your right, a cosy area with seats to the back and left, and a dancefloor to the back. It was the perfect choice, as it definitely was a good place for those who wanted to dance, but also turned out to play music that I was quite fond of for the most part. It wasn't super busy when we got there, but not so empty that it was awkward as we all went and danced.
At one point, a German boy who told me his name was Christian started dancing with me, but when he kept asking to kiss me, I took a break from dancing. This then led to me having a long and animated conversation with a Brit named Mark. He was a soldier on leave (something to do with Tanks) and was there with his friend Sam who was "a real English gentleman". I got out of him that I looked like I could be from anywhere- definitely less American than my friends. I took this as a compliment. By this point, all of the girls who were still at the club had paired up with a gentlmen. After I drifted away from Mark, I stood near the back of the club just taking everything in. Christian came over and, yet again, asked if he could kiss me. I said no, yet again. Then, with a smile, he said that he actually kind of liked the fact that I wouldn't kiss him because I had a boyfriend. Good heavens!
Eventually, a really cute, younger guy caught my eye and smiled as a Green Day song came on. He came up to me and said, "I don't even like Green Day." We half muddled out a conversation (it was quite loud) in which I learned that he was here because of his mate's 18th birthday. We admited that we were really only half hearing everything the other was saying. He guessed that I was Australian, and was definitely supprised when I admitted that I was American. He too thought I could have been from anywhere. The best thing he said was that there was a language barrier because "He was speaking English, and I was speaking American". I told him I would have spoken English if I could. At one point, Yale came up, and he was incredulous. He told me he'd applied to Cambridge, but they didn't want him. I finally showed him my Yale ID just to prove what I was saying. I mentioned Christian to him, and he said in repy that he'd try not to kiss me and asked if he was still there, because he knew a bit of German. We ended up dancing, both of us pretending to know the words when we didn't. Eventually, he did try to kiss me, and I told him I have a boyfriend. I felt bad for not telling him earlier. When I left though, I told him he could tell his mates he had kissed me if he liked, and gave him my phone number when he asked. When he gave me his, I unabashedly asked his name, as I couldn't remember it if I'd asked earlier or even if I asked. He then admited that he hadn't wanted to ask me mine again and had just put me in as girl. I told him my name again and then left.
A big group of us walked home, Emma's boy graciously giving me his other arm after he found out that I was alone because I was being faithful to my boyfriend back in America. We succesfully snuck them all in, and I promtly went into my room, pried off my shoes and skyped Mike. Then I slept for 28hrs straight.