I Took Precautions. It Didn’t Help.
When you get used to Valmoor Klubnacht, you’re wading into dangerous territory. Because Valmoor isn’t your average club. It’s not there to please or appease you. Valmoor is out to get you. It waits, patiently, until you think you know what you’re walking into. You don’t.
So when the theme is Bruised, you prepare. Or at least, you tell yourself you do.
I had read the invite. Twice. I had taken precautions. High heels crossed my mind briefly and were immediately dismissed. I checked the address of the nearest ER, brought bandages, even did a crash course in CPR. Because even when you don’t need it, you might want to. And if you do need it, you’ll wish you hadn’t skipped that step.
Walking in felt like something I would later have to explain to someone. The music didn’t ease you in, it grabbed you. The room moved and already knew how this would end. People didn’t dance so much as commit. At some point you stop fighting it. You give in. I leaned into the chaos, into the rhythm, into whatever version of myself survives a night like that. That’s when it clicks. This is why I came.
I believe we all survived and made it out in the end. Scratched, beaten and yes, bruised. Some more gracefully than others. No names. But we’ll recover. We’ll find our way back. We always do. And sooner or later, we’ll be on that floor again like none of this ever happened. Just… not yet.
Please give us a few days. And a massage. Please.
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This post is not sponsored or paid for in any way. I was also not blackmailed or tortured to write it.
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