Asian clubs in New York are a lot like clubs in San Francisco at large: The men are pussies.
Before I sound like a judgmental bitch (never mind it’s probably too late), allow me to explain. Asian males at clubs like to stare. A lot. They stare and stare and stare. They pretend to drink. Then they stare some more.
Given that they’re not leering, the first few minutes are generally acceptable. Flattering even. But then after a while, it just gets creepy. Seriously, dudes, either make a move, or move on.
This was exactly what the scene was like at District 36, supposedly the hottest new place to frequent for Asian partying in New York. First hour, and I already begged to differ.
Imagine my surprise when a somewhat dorky-looking boy reached out and grabbed my arm. I turned to see him hunched into tackling stance. He grinned at me, then pushed his glasses up his nose.
“Hey, girl,” he said, making his best attempt at swagger, “you wanna dance?”
I gave him the once over. He looked earnest, but also too young, too gangly, and too clueless.
“I’m a bit too sober right now,” I said, trying to politely excuse myself.
“That’s okay, we can still dance,” the boy replied, oblivious.
I was about to push him away when I saw black writing descending down the side of his neck. “Wow, you have a tattoo on your neck?”
He smiled ecstatically and, I swear to god, this is what he replied:
“Yeah. It stands for loyalty. Because I’m loyal to you, girl.”
I couldn’t help myself. I burst out laughing in his face.
“I have to give it to you,” I finally said when I’d collected myself a bit. “That was at least creative.”
“Really? Most people say it’s kind of tacky.”
I blinked. Huh?
“You talking about the tattoo or your pickup lines?” I said, trying to get him back on track.
He mulled this over, brows furrowed in concentration. Then a smirk graced his lips, and his face lit up.
“Both,” he declared, puffing out his chest.
My mouth dropped open at his cluelessness. I could have pointed out to him how terribly unwitty his approach was. But, figuring it was challenging enough for him to make an approach at all, I decided to be nice.
“I’m really flattered, but I think you’re a little young for me. Thanks, though.”
He walked away scratching his head, clearly baffled that I’d rejected a stud like him.