House parties might be cheaper but they’re still rubbish
Stop kidding yourself
Clubbing has become a bit stagnant as all that was once considered underground has been lingering in the charts for too long.
People don’t want to go out anymore for fear of mimicking the boring events of last weekend. The clubs are becoming more expensive and even the good ones are starting to let the sort of dickhead you endeavour to avoid.
To get away from them more and more are opting for house parties as the solution. People tell you they’re cheaper, full of like minded people and simply way more fun.
I’m calling bullshit on your living room antics. I don’t want to end up sat where you eat your dinner, listening to the same 10 songs play over on your advert riddled spotify and plagued by your mates’ awful conversation.
You can take your own booze, pretending to yourself you’ll have more fun than a club night. But you’ll get there, put your six pack on a table, return when you’re one tinnie down to find them crumpled and empty in the now overflowing bin.
If you want to do drugs more freely, you can try and sneak off to the bathroom, only to contend with the mammoth queue. You can’t even use your mate’s room . There’s either a couple arguing, a group of mates having a tif or making up over one, or two randomers shagging with the lights on just so everyone that walks catches a glimpse and cracks a joke later on.
There’s no escape from people. In a club, if someone smells or gets on your nerves, you never see them again. You observe them from afar, laugh like it’s some kind of zoo and move on.
At a house party, you’re stuck. The argument is they’re full of like minded people from your social circle. There isn’t one social circle that doesn’t have a couple of black sheep that no one really wants to talk to or invite out but stick to you like glue, pulling you back into their dark abyss of loneliness and terrible jokes. At least in a club you don’t have to talk to them.
Combine at least five social circles at one house party, and you’re left with enough ear bashers to ruin the night that you simply cannot avoid. Weird Kev from Kidderminster simply won’t fuck off and stop telling you about his travels in Bolivia, and continues to pop up in every room you try to congregate in.
If one more person asks, while oozing their Foster saturated breath all over me, who I’d most like to see headline a festival, I might kick off.
There’s never enough people there. The fluid nature of a house party, where people can hide away as they please, means you can never find your mates or anyone interesting and you’re landed with the guy who still smells like his burnt dinner.
You can’t even choose the music. If anything, not going to a club or a DJ you can trust, you’re leaving your ears to the wolves. Any clown could put One Direction or Swedish House Mafia on, completely changing the vibe and raining on everyone’s parade.
It might well be easier to leave, but why would your exit strategy make the night any better? Just because I can leave the people I don’t like, doesn’t make the idea of a house party any more attractive. If you go to a club, You can dance away and ignore the potentially ignominious crowd you find yourself with.
If you want to smoke, you face the wrath of the busybody who threw the whole party then clogged up the kitchen with their rubbish mates who went to Warwick, work in marketing and now bring their other half with them everywhere they go. It’s the sort of stale uninteresting person you can’t escape.
It’s the anti-establishment two fingers up attitude of house parties I don’t buy. The danger of your grumpy neighbour coming round in his slippers and stained wife beater to bang on your door or potentially knock out your mate who tells him: “Calm down, it’s Friday,” doesn’t strike me as fun.
Yes there’s a certain amount of unpredictability about house parties. Someone might break a glass, or a door, or set fire to your pillow. There goes your destination for your next shitty house party.
The more of these you have, the less of them you can end up going to.
With clubs, if it’s shit or you get barred or even bored, you move on to one of the other plethora of sticky nightclubs where you can people watch to your heart’s content.
I’m alright with finding an alternative to sticky floors and cheesy music, but I’m not about to kid myself at the risk of you throwing up on my pillow or breaking my toilet seat.