A “Definitive” List of Men in the Club (by country)
Each country seems to have their own proverbial handbook on courting women, and here is my overgeneralized opinion on each one (because what is human nature if not exercising an innate desire to categorize others?):
Deemed the kings of marrying passivity and aggression, American men in the club are infamous for their gregarious demeanors and sense of duty in buying women a drink (the first step to taking her home?). However, they are also notorious for their propensity to ask if you’ve passed the recent exam while groovin’ or if you’d like to try twerking on a nearby table. Meaning, they really love seizing every chance they get to slide up behind you when you’re dancing with you friends and initiate a little unsolicited grinding action (often entirely lacking in rhythm). . . but they also love to sway awkwardly to the beat and never making a damn move. We love a good paradox!
For men hailing from romance languages, Italians and Spaniards love to form a wall around you and/or to stare deep, brooding daggers into your soul (a little mental undressing is a must). Italians are the type of guy that will ask you about your studies, your future career, and your relationship with your mother but will also grab your face within the same breath (true story). To be frank, it’s a pretty seamless move — but, I will remark that it would be better executed whilst not in the middle of a hundred sweaty bodies flopping to the beat of “Despacito”, and it would be classier if they didn’t do it to literally every single girl before and after me.
Spanish men love to hear your life story as well, likely won’t buy you a drink (which is a-okay with me, c’mon people!), and will be even more likely to express surprise that, Wow! You can actually move your hips well for an American? They will also tell you that you’re pronouncing your ethnically ambiguous name incorrectly.
Having only had experience with men from Mexico as pals in a large group, they seem to do a wonderful job of assigning themselves as your brotherly protectors when you go out to the club. They’re quick to buy you a drink (or at least keep one in your hand) and make sure you’re properly bathed, fed, and overall cared for. Yet, they can also get pretty handsy and love giving exceedingly intimate hugs. There’s a high chance that I will never know if my Mexican friends are flirting with me, but at least they will respect when you have a boyfriend. Conversely, Italians and Spaniards love insisting that you will leave your boyfriend for them (because that makes sense, Sir Stranger).
After visiting Budapest, Hungary, and experiencing the blatant aggression that seems to exude from the testosterone filled Hungarian clubs, I have realized that Dutch men are a very special, almost pleasant group to encounter on a night out. Hungarians give off a vibe that suggests they own the rights to your body, often grabbing your hips and caressing your every limb despite obvious recoil. Hungarian men like to yell directly in your ear holes that you’re American (you don’t say?) and that you look vaguely like another American brunette they saw on TV once (I look nothing like Katie Holmes, but okay sir). And if you say no? They’re grabbing your arms and pulling backwards. Others may circle the crowd looking for you as their prey, some smell you, and some sneak attack behind your unconsenting booty like a sneaky shark.
Dutch men love to circle up around you while you’re dancing with your friends and just linger there. I mean, they will keep a good few feet between you and them at all times, but will also stare the same Italian/Spanish daggers into your soul (healthy balance, kids). In my experience, Dutch youths are a big fan of this move and it seems that they will continue to be content with not saying a word with the expectation that you will make the move instead. If they attempt to sidle in next to you and you dismiss them, they will glide away and return back to their circle. If they do make an effort to speak to you, it’s often a very garbled bit of Dutch coupled with excitement when they find out you’re foreign. Then they’ll tell you that you don’t know how to dance and that you need to loosen up. Dutch men tow the line of being subsequently shy, a little bit offputting, and yet respectfully endearing, and for that, I am surprisingly thankful.