SOME people take partying too seriously. I say, don't.

Don't assume all women are waiting to be picked up and don't label all men as players. With such myopic views, the world will never move along.

A friend related his brother's disapproving stance when his girlfriend insisted on going out clubbing: 'He assumes all women who go to such places are sluts because if you're not there to be picked up, why go?'

The girlfriend, an outgoing sort, was feeling stifled by such prudishness. She wanted to score some points at work if she drank with her colleagues after official hours. It was a kind of bonding.

Debate

I shake my head, not ready to plunge into a never-ending debate of sorts. It was the same viewpoint my ex-boyfriend held.

We would fight whenever I wanted to join the girls for a night's out.

I pleaded him to 'open his eyes' to realise people that do have genuine fun in clubs, more than their eagerness to set up baits for the opposite sex.

'You're too young and naive,' he'd lecture me.

'You don't understand people's motives. You don't understand yourself.'

I'd fume and fight, and lose out in the bickering.

I was 24, fresh in the workforce and still reminiscing about my university days where friends clubbed purely for a good night out and a hot supper after.

The ex-boyfriend's words sounded completely small-town, as if he had nothing else to live for but to pick on the impossible. And yet his views were somewhat valid, so it was hard to dismiss him entirely.

These days, whenever a male stranger approaches, I'm reminded of the ex-boyfriend's words and I'd laugh in my head.

A finance-manager-sort-of-guy walked up some weeks ago and said something stupid: 'I have never seen anyone look so happy.'

He was tall and well-built, wore a crisp white shirt and had a cute baby face.

He lingered around, stared, whispered to his friends and at some point handed out his name card.

He attempted conversation but it didn't work because his questions fell flat.

He tried flattery, but it was laced with bits of bitterness he had with his own life. I told him to back off.

At that point, I only wanted to dance (a rare mood) and wished he would disappear before ruining the night.

Games

He seemed earnest and probably a little drunk. But I admired his courage and it would have been the last thing on my mind to call him a player or a complete menace.

When these games are played in clubs, it boils down to mischief and temptation that people succumb to when they let their hair down.

There is nothing wrong. And we shouldn't judge. Most of us probably have skeletons stuck deeper in the closet, so why put a tag on others?

Just laugh it all off, the foolhardiness a round of drinks may bring, the silly acts we're too inhibited to perform in daylight.

This article was first published in The New Paper on Jan 21, 2009.