Multicolored lights spun around a room crowded with dancing bodies as electronic music blasted through high-quality speakers. I felt a hand grip my hip as a man screamed in my ear, “Damn! You’re the second hottest girl in this club!” I tore his hand off of me and wrapped my arms around my friend’s neck. “Really? Because I’m a lesbian!” I kissed her, turned around to see his shocked expression, then continued dancing with my friends.

So, I should probably give you some sort of backstory here. Two of my close friends were DJing at a nearby club, and it was a really big deal for Emerson’s freshmen class. The first time I went was my first time ever at a club, and I went with a guy I was hooking up with at the time, so I was dancing with him the entire night. I had a great time, and was excited two weeks later, when my friends were playing the club again. So, I went with two of my best friends, and we figured it would be an awesome and much-needed girls’ night out. We weren’t really looking for any guys; we just wanted to dance and have a great time with each other.

Eventually, we realized that the room we were in was full of thirsty men who thought the only way to get a girl was to grab their hips and press them to their own. We didn’t let this get to us, instead we implemented a system where we danced in a circle, warned each other of guys approaching, and when we had to pry some guy’s hands off our hips, we’d switch places in the circle. This worked well for a while, until the guys became more and more persistent. Sometimes I would have to physically push a guy away to stop him from following me when I switched places in our little lineup. One of my friends had to tell a few guys to “get the f*ck away” from her, a warning that not many men took seriously. That’s when we realized the power of pretending to be a lesbian.

It was interesting to see the guys’ reactions to us grinding, kissing, and grabbing each other just as they had grabbed us. Some immediately left, others knew we were lying and laughed at us, and others were just more turned on than before. At one point, a man tried to tear two of us apart so he could get in the middle of us. He screamed, “Wow! Who are YOU?!” to which I replied, “A lesbian!” and walked away. He followed me, screaming, “Me too! We have so much in common!” It was almost like we were their toys. These guys came to the club to hunt, while we just wanted to have a good time.

That same guy eventually found one girl he was particularly fond of, maybe because she was extremely intoxicated. We tried to continue dancing, but we couldn’t stop checking on the two of them making out in the corner, making sure that she was okay with everything that was happening. Eventually, one of my guy friends grabbed her away from the creepy guy and started dancing with her instead. There was no issue. He continued moving from girl to girl, offering them drinks, stumbling closer to them as he spoke. Later in the night, I gave my friend a huge hug for getting her away from him. I gained an immense amount of respect for him.

I realized then that the guys at that club didn’t care about how we felt. We told them that we didn’t want anything, physically moved them away from us, pretended to be gay, and yelled, but what got this creep away from an impaired girl was when another guy took her away from him. No questions asked. It was his turn, and that was fine.

I thought about this in the Uber home, before I went to sleep, and when I woke up the next morning. Those guys couldn’t care less about how we felt. I don’t know why I was in such disbelief, but I was. My friends and I talked about it for a while, trying to draw new conclusions, but the simple answer was that those guys had no respect for women. I don’t mean to say that all guys at clubs are just looking for someone to have sex with that night; this was just our experience. I really hope that one day my friends and I can hang out at that club again without feeling unsafe when alone.