Drop it Like it's Hot

Saturday night in Washington. It's always interesting to see the people of the city and the suburbs flocking to their preferred stomping grounds like salmon swimming upstream to mate. This past Saturday evening, I had the chance to observe young DCMetro-ites in their natural habitat in that quintessential zone of debauchery that we call Adams Morgan.

I have to admit, I have never experienced Adams Morgan on a weekend night before. Have I avoided it? Or simply missed out? That question remains unanswered. On this particularly sultry Washington night, DB and I were pulled out to Chloe by our two female GenY friends. As we made our way, no PUSHED our way through the throng on 18th St., I couldn't help but notice that the buzz coming from the crowd sounded eerily like the sounds of millions of cicadas in a last-ditch effort to mate before certain demise.

Standing in line at Chloe I noticed how many of the women looked like bad (or good) Jessica Simpson imitations. Apparently every girl in the country is now a horsie blonde with a sheet of fabric taped over her breasts and wearing stiletto heels.

Once inside the club, the first thing that I noticed was the music. Now, bear in mind that I had said that I wanted to go to a straight club and dance to good music. We had considered 18^th St. Lounge, but, unsure if they would have dancing this night, Chloe was suggested. The music at Chloe was definitely in the vein of what DB dubbed Hop40. The beat changed very little throughout the evening. For much of the night, an angry male voice seemed to be screaming in my ear, except when it was interrupted by the occasional Beyonce tune. Perhaps I really have grown too old, because this scene seemed less like the ultra-hip, well-dressed picture that I had in mind, and more like a bad wedding.

It was really astounding to see the changes that have taken place in the straight mating ritual. Men were dancing in groups of 3 and 4, often barely approaching the girls. Meanwhile, I noticed that the new method of girls introducing themselves to men seems to be to dance your way up to them, pry them from their friends and then bend over and grind your ass against them. All of this taking place while an angry man screams at you to “Lean Back" or "Drop it Like it's Hot." Are you supposed to lean back or drop it? The best approach seems to be debateable.

I was rather astonished at the GenY rules of dating. As I looked around looked around the dance floor I noticed another phenomenon. Slutty girls used to be talked about, made fun of and vilified. Now, Slutty Girl is the norm. A young 25 year old girl can’t afford not to be a whore. A man wouldn’t give a second look. I realized how frustrating this world must be to navigate through as my friend Ghazaleh threw her hands up on the dance floor and said to me “Do you see what I have to work with? It’s awful out here!”

Walking home that evening with DB, stepping lightly to avoid the cast-off jumbo slices of pizza and occasional pool of vomit, I thought about waking up in the morning in my middle aged gay man's condo, drinking my French Roast coffee and listening to Jazz. I realized that I might be aging. I might even be getting old. But at least I didn’t have to buzz like cicada, shake my ass and lean back to find love.