Unpopular opinion: Clubbing is overrated and I’m kinda done with it

Paying to spend hours in a germ infested sweatbox all night? I think I’ll pass

2 years ago

I don’t like clubbing. I didn’t like it before the pandemic, and I certainly don’t like it after. It’s just not for me.

I’m sure there are lots of people out there who feel the same way as me too, but not liking clubbing as a student is basically an unforgivable offence. It all starts with Freshers’ Week when we’re given a whole seven days to effectively just get smashed and hit the clubs. Failure to do so leaves you at risk of ending this introductory week friendless, with the reputation of the flat bore.

However, when you stop to think about it, it seems crazy that people love clubbing so much. Sure, it’s a rite of passage when you turn 18 and it’s come to symbolise ‘freedom’ post-lockdown, but the reality is clubbing is kinda shit.

I like having a good night’s sleep

Call me a grandma, but I like getting an early night and waking up refreshed for a new day. Honestly, my main issue with clubbing is that it coincides with my bedtime.

Any respectable soul knows you can’t turn up to a club until 11pm at the earliest, but that’s the exact same time as I want to be turning in for the night. Unfortunately for me, my body doesn’t respond to caffeine in the usual way either, so no amount of coffee or Irn-Bru Energy will ever wake me up enough to feel like I’m ready to have a rave past 10pm. I also need at least seven hours of sleep in order to not be a mega bitch the next day, so if you force me to go out you only have yourself to blame for my snarky attitude the next morning.

I’ve concluded that in an ideal world, clubs would open about three hours earlier and end in time for me to get an actual decent amount of sleep. If I could hit the club and then be tucked up in bed snuggling my cuddly polar bear by midnight, I would be hitting the dance floor daily.

Side note: I was invited to a house party the other day that started AFTER midnight, on a THURSDAY. I’m sorry, but what sort of madness is that??

Would much rather spend the night cuddling Icy <3

Clubs are where germs thrive

We all know how disgusting a club toilet can be, but perhaps even more horrifying are the germs that the clubbers themselves bring in with them.

Back in September, I went on my first night out since clubs reopened, which just so happened to coincide with Freshers’ Week. I lasted about 40 minutes before I remembered that a) I don’t really like clubbing and b) this was a Covid hotspot if ever I’d seen one.

Despite my briefest of dalliances with the dance floor and my constant use of hand sanitiser, those 40 minutes ended with me bed-ridden with a horrible cold for the next week. While I’m super thankful it wasn’t Covid, the fact remains that clubs are where germs thrive. In fact, I’m pretty sure the common cold is the biggest party animal known to man. Germs love a good night out.

What’s worse, is that you actually pay good money to sign yourself up for a bout of fresher’s flu, a cold, Covid, glandular fever, tonsillitis, the list goes on…

Honestly, it’s just not worth it.

Definitely coming home with Covid

It’s too crowded and everyone’s hot and sweaty

Going from a pandemic with social distancing to having to touch a stranger’s sweaty body because you physically can’t move anywhere else is too much to handle. I like my personal space. I don’t like people bumping into you every 30 seconds because apparently dancing on the spot is harder than getting an actual degree. I’m sorry but did you fail primary school PE??

Not only do we have to think about all the germs in a club, but just the thought of all the sweat in there is enough to make me swear of clubbing for good. It’s cute and all when the people around you want to hold hands and dance in a circle, but honestly, I’ll just stand in the middle and enjoy the moment of personal space.

If only clubs were always this spacious

People turn into absolute wankers, total idiots, or both

Clubs are where even your oldest and most loyal friends can turn on you. A few vodka shots down and suddenly your bestie is a five year old again, running around like a lunatic, getting with the world’s ickiest man, texting her ex, and then on the way home stealing traffic cones like they’re collectibles for your flat. No doubt someone in your group will get you all kicked out anyway, but not before trying to square up to the bouncers first. You think herding cats is hard, try herding a five foot fiery drunk girl back to her flat at 2am.

But the shit pulled by your friends is nothing compared to twatty behaviour displayed by strangers in a club. Just because it’s after midnight, the music is deafeningly loud, and the lights are down suddenly means that people think it’s actually okay to elbow, push past, and spill their drinks on you.

Don’t even get me started on the people who throw their empties into the crowd like we’re just one giant rubbish tip. Not only am I trying not to slip on all the cups on the floor, I now have to stay alert in case one falls on me from above.

PSA: if you’re gonna throw your cups in the air, please make sure they’re fucking empty first. Otherwise you’ll be getting my dry cleaning bill in the morning.

My flatmate’s cone collection in our hallway

You have to walk back in the cold and rain

Picture the scene: It’s 3am, you’re exhausted, but you’ve finally persuaded your flatmates that it’s time to leave the dance floors behind and replace them with the comfort of a quick snack and your duvet. Sadly, you then remember that the night’s still far from over, as you now have to trek home across the city in the freezing cold and rain.

The walk to the club four hours ago was already bad enough, but at least then you had the promise of a night of cheesy hits washed down with venoms spurring you on. Now though, all you can think about is the fact that it’s still a 20 minute walk home in what feels like artic conditions, and you have a tutorial in exactly six hours time for which you still haven’t done the reading.

I honestly don’t think there’s anything worse.

A genuine photo of me trying to get home after a night out