The other night I went to a club in Medellin.
I’m not going to tell you where exactly I went because it’s not important.
But here’s what happened…
After I went inside this club and looked around for a few minutes, I suddenly realized I had come upon a very rare sight– a large infiltration of fat, unattractive girls.
This is in Medellin, Colombia.
At first, I didn’t think my brain was registering the situation properly…
After all, I was the one who wrote about being under the Medellin spell.
I was the one who listed girls as a primary reason for returning to Medellin.
I was the one who never failed to play up the beauty of the paisa girls to anyone who asked about Medellin.
And most of all, I was the one who just wrote about how I’m looking to go deeper with this city.
But here it was… The exact opposite of everything I’ve come to expect.
Instinctively, I shook my head a few times and slapped myself on the temple and tried to focus my eyes again. I thought, “This can’t actually be real, can it?”
Oh yes. It was real.
The place was full of female corpulence.
It was an oasis of bloated stomachs and rolls of fat.
It was a den of fleshy, unattractive females perched around their tables like engorged turkeys.
And listen, when I say “fat”, I’m not talking about the little Latin pudge that you see here and there– where the girl is still attractive even though she may be little overweight.
I’m talking about FAT women. FAAAAAAAT. F.A.T.
And, I’m not just talking 2 or 3 fat girls in this club… I’m talking 80% of the girls in the club were like this.
I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought I had left obesity back in the US.
But it was true. This club had hordes of fat, unattractive women.
In fact, I made several laps around the club just to make sure I wasn’t kidding myself or seeing an illusion.
Somewhat ironically, the group I was out with had brought in the most attractive girls in the place– some foreign backpacker girls we met 2 hours earlier. Within minutes, the few Colombian men in the club approached the girls– they looked like thirsty men who finally found water in a desert.
Despite being given the ‘approach me’ eye from a number of the gordas, I wasn’t interested in any of them (nor the backpacker girls), so after sipping a beer for 20 minutes, I left.
My experience that night confirmed several things:
First, lesser-known clubs are lesser-known clubs for a reason.
Second, there will be some girls who don’t take care of themselves in all parts of the world. You can only hope the percentage is relatively small.
Finally, things aren’t always guaranteed to be ideal, in this city or the next.