reason #254 why i hate dance clubs

The Doorman – aka the weasly, parasitic, washed-up douche on a power-trip

Here’s a funny little story from last Saturday night.  Bestie and Second Mom were in the city for a family shindig.  I met up with them when it was over at 3PM.  From there we went to the bar area of a nice restaurant.  We enjoyed some tasty wine and apps and talked and cried and laughed and got drunk.  Afterwards, we went to a nearby hotel bar and had one more beverage.  While there, we decided that we wanted to dance and lo-and-behold, an old college friend was going to be in the city to celebrate his birthday at this “hot gay club”.  We want to dance, what better place than at a gay club?

Here’s where the real story starts.  It’s early, only about 9:45/10PM, and we get in line behind the velvet rope [GAG] of this club.  There’s hardly anyone else in line, so we pretty much walk right up to the doorman and this is what transpires.  Not verbatim, but a pretty good representation of what was said:

Doorman: You can’t get in unless you are a member or have a white card.
Us: Huh?  Really?  We’re just meeting someone here for his birthday.  How do you get a white card?  Really?  You won’t let us in?
Doorman: Step aside.

So, now we are standing to the side trying to figure out our next move.  Bestie is texting the bday boy.  And we’re talking and pretty incredulous about how they won’t let us in, but we’re not really making that much of a stink.  We talk to some man with one of those wannabe Secret Service wire ear-pieces.  He tells us that he can’t help us, it’s all up to the doorman who gets in, but basically as a woman you need to be accompanied by a male to get inside, being as it is a (male) gay club.

We move down the street a bit near the entrance to the line and talk to more bouncers down there.  They basically said the same thing.  So we tried asking random guys getting in line if we could go in with them.  After 15 minutes of talking to the bouncers and random club-goers, we find three men who are willing to take us in with them.

We get up to the doorman and he lets the three guys in, but tells us that we are not allowed in.

Us: Umm, but why?  We are going in with three guys.  Those are the rules, right?
Doorman: You are not getting in.
Us: Why?
Doorman: One of you called me an ass.
Us: What?!  When?
Doorman: When you were standing over there [he points], one of you called me an ass.
Us: Are you serious?  None of us called you an ass.  [And none of us did, he just made that shit up.]

Doorman keeps going on how we’re not getting in and we’re arguing that we never called him an ass, when I’d finally had it.

Me: You know what?  We never said, but if we did, and we didn’t, then fine, it was me.  I called you an ass.  Cause you know what?  YOU’RE A FUCKING ASSHOLE!  There, now you can say that I called you an asshole.

I proceeded to walk away, but Bestie and Second Mom were still arguing with him.  I came back and kept on screaming that he was an asshole.  And I wanted it on record that I was calling him an asshole.  I wanted the bouncer dudes who were standing there to hear that I was calling him an asshole.

It wasn’t one of my more mature, finer moments, but it was so called for and now I can laugh about it.  If I wouldn’t have to face legal consequences, I would have beat that insufferable, whiny little bitch into the sidewalk.  I swear if I ever randomly see him around the city, I will throat punch him.

In retrospect, I’m glad we didn’t get in.  I read online reviews of the place and most were negative with complaints about the doorman.  Plus, it would have been a $30 cover for each of us and if we had to throw down $90 for just the three of us to step foot in that gawd-awful place, I think my head would have blown.


  1. I like those moments when you mentally mull things over and go, “This is already not going anyway, so I am going big then going home!” 🙂

    • If he was going to lie and insist that we called him an asshole, then I may as well call him one. And make a slight scene doing it. I’m pretty sure the bouncers got a kick out of it.

  2. Second Mom

    OMG – I was dreading this post. Thanks for not telling the whole truth about Second Mom.
    I’m still working on the lawsuit as I type!

    • Haha!!! That’s not my part of the story to tell 😉

  3. Wow. The needless drama. Are you sure you’re not the one who requires babysitting?

    • Needless drama? There was no “drama” until he kept accusing us of calling him names, which we did not. So, yes, it pissed me off. If he didn’t want to let us in, and clearly he didn’t, just tell us that. Don’t make up some stupid lie. None of us even raised our voice at anyone until he started in with the whole calling him an ass lie.

      • Someone who you’ll never see again mistakenly thought they heard you call them a rude name. So instead of just moving on and having a good night somewhere else you screamed and shouted at him and expended vast amounts of emotional energy. And what did it accomplish? Nothing. That’s what I call needless drama.

        Women are dealing with problems like fistulas and sexual slavery in other parts of the world. Yet you’re getting so wound up because someone wouldn’t let you in a nightclub? Like seriously come on.

        • I appreciate your comments and point of view, but I still disagree.

          It was not a matter of a mistake. It was a blatant lie from someone who was on a power trip. I did not expend any emotional energy on this guy. Please. It took no longer than a few minutes for all this to happen. Other than being pissed, I was not upset, I was not hurt, I was not insulted. He was a dick and needed to be told he was being a dick. And when I say I was “screaming” at him, that was an exaggeration. I raised my voice and spoke louder than normal, but doubtful that it was any louder or expended any more energy than a cabbie calling out the window to another driver cutting him off. I stand by what I said, it was not needless drama. I also don’t think calling a guy out for being an asshole is drama, that’s just the truth.

          • ” I came back and kept on screaming that he was an asshole. And I wanted it on record that I was calling him an asshole. I wanted the bouncer dudes who were standing there to hear that I was calling him an asshole.”

            “If I wouldn’t have to face legal consequences, I would have beat that insufferable, whiny little bitch into the sidewalk. I swear if I ever randomly see him around the city, I will throat punch him.”

            Ummm… No emotional energy?? Then why bother with all this? As you wrote, this is the “real story”, not the hours you spent with your girlfriends.

            Now you say you exaggerated screaming at him. So were you being dramatic at the time or just later on in writing about it?

            I totally think men need to man up and be more alpha and stronger, as I regularly write about and link to. E.g.
            But no man worth his salt is going to put up with these types of displays from his gf/wife.

            • Like I said before, I appreciate your opinion, but we obviously disagree on this. Leave it at that.

  4. Moley

    I love your posts. Always hilarious. Throat punch the whiny little bitch please!

    • Thanks! Anyone who’s going to bitch about being called an ass needs to toughen up. And a throat punch will do just that.

  5. Ugh…what a jerky doorman!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: