Last night was one of those parties (on the Palm in Dubai), where... I'm not actually there. Oh, I'm there physically, and even unfortunately mentally to some extent, but sorta spiritually?... no.
I'm (a childish) 36, and the average age of the partygoer last night must've been around 48. This presents a nasty crevasse in terms of age. Add to that; half of them were single, 90% of them were much richer than us and you have a horribly sad recipe that is bound to end, for me, in a depressing observation of the consequences of perhaps too much money..
To see 50-somethings, dancing to Bob Sinclair with 'sexy' gyratory 'moves' comin' at ya is a sight that no-one who's happily partnered-up or at least under 40 should see. Couple that with the dress-sense of the 'Dad' - aaarrrgggh. It's like some twisted, perverted, sick trick that one of my friends has played on me. Seriously - there was a guy there (probably a millionaire) dancing like David Brent, overweight, bright red Christmas jumper (in fact, he probably DID get it for Chrimbo!) - not to say my 'moves' are anything to write home about, but his were incredibly spasticated, with much a-grabbing of his muffin-top crotchal area... nice.
Problem with these kind of evening soirees is that it's a 40/50-something pick-up joint, so no-one wants to talk about anything with sincerity or about anything more that small talk. Well, if you're content in your love-life and not looking for either a) a rotund rich man who can help you out for the next 40 years, or b) a now-skinny, but eventually rotund lady with over-exposed legs who's happy to touch your ticket, the whole thing is a saddening bore... now i see why a dinner party with 4 couples one's own age is pretty damn good.
There was a lot of: fake tan, high heel, luscious food, guys dressed in work gear (what the f*ck else do they know, they don't DO anything else!), leg on show, fake enjoyment (you are 50, you're a skinny women, you have no kids, no husband, rich shallow friends, no future.... you are a failure), 'sexy' moves, honkeys over 35 dancing (should be illegal), old-skool dancing (and i mean old-skool as in 1950s, not 1983)
Great food, free booze, good(ish) music (great DJ and host i must point out), superb location + hollow guests = (for me) mental vacancy...
The murtabel was bloody good mind you!
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