Ew. Ew. Ew.

That’s the only thought that is going through my head right now.

Last night our house hosted a candy-shop themed underwear birthday party. One item of clothing for guys and two for girls. I have no reservations about not wearing clothes, and as the night went on (and as I got drunker) I ended up losing my shirt, stripped by my pink-frock-baring bartender friend. The guy-to-girl ratio, while quite favorable, made the entire party somewhat of a sausage-fest. Often I would find myself in a circle surrounded by a handful of half-naked men, all asking me questions and probably mentally evaluating whether or not I would sleep with them. Finally, one guy who had been talking to me for a while asked me whether I wanted to dance. “Sure!” I replied, “I love dancing!”

That’s when I learned that dancing does not really mean dancing. I love dancing with men, I even like the “grinding” that the older generation likes to call “vertical sex”. I don’t even mind that you are touching me. Dance is an expression of feeling, I know I’m hot and you can’t help it. But I am not amused when you force my hands all over your body, limiting my expression to “I want you” (which I don’t; because you’re sketchy and the only reason I agreed to dance with you was because I felt bad). I guess I can let you kiss me too, but 30 seconds later you say, “let’s go upstairs” and I say “big fucking NO”.

College parties, clubs, bars, so far everywhere I’ve gone out in Britain I’ve experienced the same story.  I’ve never been clubbing in the US (not yet 21), but no guy ever asks me to dance at the parties at school. So I’m not sure if this is a rant against sketchy British men, or just against men in general, but PLEASE LET US GIRLS DANCE IN PEACE! The last time I checked my thesaurus, fuck was not listed as a synonym for dance.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I have to take a few showers to wash the taste of your hands away.