In the words of SpongeBob, “I ripped my pants”

Listen to any popular song from ’00 til now, and you will notice one common instruction. Drop it low. From Flo Rida to Nelly, everyone “in the game” is insisting that girls take it and place it as close to the floor as possible. I am not even sure what “it” is, but I have been attempting this butt cheek floor grazing technique for a solid decade. I would like to say that makes me an expert.

If you are considering trying this standard dance move yourself, the safest platform for you to experiment with the motions of your body is a gay dance club. You will never be the worst dancer in a gay dance club. In case you are feeling that familiar tinge of embarrassment, know, even the best fall down sometimes, especially me.

The night at the Max started out just as all Friday/Saturday nights start out. Taylor, JJ, and I arrived at the gay club shortly after 10 pm dressed to impress. They wore matching outfits, as most gay male couples do, and I had on a brand new pair of pants. The pants were tight on my bottom, as most gay-club-going-straight-women usually wear pants. I made one fateful flaw that night; I wore those pants without a trial run. Pants should come with a disclaimer: While wearing these pants for the first time, do a deep lunge in front of the mirror to make sure your pants wont split.

Unfortunately, pants don’t come with a disclaimer. Learn from my mistake, always give your pants a trial run before attempting any dancing, which may result in your butt being mere inches from the floor.

Before the actual split, I had moments which now seem to be a foreshadowing of what was about to go “down.” I grabbed a drink from the bar and proceeded to make my way to the dance floor to meet up with the two most gorgeous gay men in the club, Tay and J. I forgot that the dance floor drops a foot from the walkway and fell. No, not fall, launched. Knees, first; wrists ,second. My phone flew one way and my drink the other. I should have just gone home at that point. But, I learn lessons the hard way.

Tay’s coworkers were out with us that night, and his rhythmically impaired coworker ensued to stomp on my big toe. Months later, I am still dealing with the consequences of his inability to control his big feet. As luck would have it, Nicki Minaj’s “Anaconda” came on over the sound system.

*Little fun fact, I know almost of Nicki’s lyrics. Like, to every song*

Feeling my inner spirit animal on the verge of coming out, I let go. Perhaps one of my best performances was soon brought to a halting stop. I dropped “it” like I have never dropped it before. In that moment, the seam of my pants split, right down my butt. I remained in a squatting position, senses heightened, aware of every eye’s gaze in the club. I promptly straightened up and pulled my shirt as low as possible. I found a chair and sat there for the remaining two hours of the night.

Finally, as the lights came on just before 2 am, I grabbed Tay and J and high-tailed it out of the Max. In the cab, the conversation went something like this:

Tay:HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

J:HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

That night left lasting scars on my psyche. I constantly am checking my derrière. Thanks, pants. Thanks for nothing.

See, I told you they were gorgeous!