this year i put a lot of thought into my new years resolution — it was actually at the stroke of midnight on new years’ eve that the plan was formulated þandþ put into action. honestly.

i was on the rooftop of a friend’s pad, watching the fireworks over the embarcadero… there with a gaggle of my friends… hugs, wine and good cheer all around. i realized i had been living in san francisco for over a year, and although i had been having a blast, i still felt that i was taking advantage of all that big city life has to offer — interesting people, fun times, sordid adventures, learning opportunities, and challenges of every variety. i had been missing out, i realized, because i had been living the life of a 43 year old… going home after work, kicking back in front of the tv, having a little dinner, and then off to bed. lame with a capital — me.

my new year’s resolution was simple — sleep less. everyone always complains, “there’s not enough time in the day” — well, this is the only sure fire way to do something about it. and it works, i tell you. the adventure started that evening, and has continued on to present day. the past few weeks have been a delicious treat of dancing, dancing, partying, dancing, drinking, dancing, love, dancing and smiles. new orleans was the first climax, and it’s been all down/up/downhill from there.

my biggest problem now is constantly complaining from lack of sleep. suck it up, buddy, cuz this is what you asked for. live it up.

“i don’t do drugs either” was the line i dropped at like 4:14 in the morning. it’s true — in all honesty, i’ve never really done any illegal drugs. never injected anything, never smoked a bowl, never snorted, never dropped [successfully]. my two friends nodded, agreed, and then we polished off our 10th drink for the night (probably my 20th in the 24 hours straight i had been awake at that point). alcohol is different, right?

ignoring that stigma for a moment, i want to focus on the emotions involved behind my decision to not do drugs. it’s not a “i object to drug use” or “i think drugs are all bad” — in actuality, i’ve decided on several occasions to experiment… as luck would have it, though, for the most part i’ve been unsuccessful. i have friend that use drugs, i have friends that abuse drugs. i’ve seen the good and the bad, and understand the ups and downs of most of ‘em.

what annoys me so much, however, is the shock, the surprise, and the high-schoolish peer pressure associated with this shocking revelation. the shock exists on several issues: first, there’s the “wait, isn’t eric like the biggest club freak i know?” and “didn’t eric go to ibiza?” and “how come he always comes into work late?” … then, there’s the “he’s gay, he’s young, he’s gotta do k” (and e and speed and …) i can deal with that, and my friends easily understand my philosophy — in general, i live my life to enjoy it to its fullest. and, along with drug use comes enjoyment and fufillment, and also risks and side effects. i’m not preaching — ask my liver if my alcohol consumption is acceptable.

at least in new orleans, it would seem that alcohol is an acceptable drug of choice. just tell those boys to get the poppers out of their noses and put a friggin shirt on. and, just because i’ve been dancing like a freaked-out raver for four hours nonstop on the podium at oz, don’t assume i have any ecstacy to sell (or that i would sell it to you you freak). that’s the highest compliment — when someone can’t believe that i’m -not- on ecstacy — it means that (1) i’m having a fucking awesome time, and (2) you can see it. maybe it means my dancing’s not so bad either.

names changed to protect the fucking guilty:

mark is a very attractive boy — on my own personal scale of 1 to 100, he’s defintely in the 90’s. we’ve seen each other around, and exchanged phone numbers on several occasions. i run into him at the [notorious] café nightclub, he’s more than friendly … after whispering sweet nothings in each other’s ears, he tells me,
“check out my diamond ring — you can kiss it if you want!”
“how nice,” i reply, “where did you get it?”
“oh, from my sugardaddy — he’s right over there!”
“huh. that’s great,” i tell him.
“oh — it’s okay, i’m allowed to have tricks!” he winks at me.
þþ strives for many, has one, wants one more.

i get in touch with my highschool sweetheart — we haven’t spoken in six years. we’re both in relationships — he’s been living with his boy for three years, i’ve been dating mine for a few months. we talk. we chat. we seduce and romanticize. all in parallel to what we both already have.
þþ strives for our first, has a new one, wants the old one back

i meet jean, a lovely french lad, one night while i’m out on the town. he’s incredibly friendly, probably drunk off his ass. we chat for a while, snog for a while, and then he pins me against a wall. he won’t take no for an answer. some shred of morality creeps into my head, and i convince him that we should part ways for the evening — but have lunch the next day. he’s heartbroken.

the next day we have lunch, it’s grand, and we promise to hang out soon. i run into him the next evening at a nice little club called ‘butter’ — he’s there, as french as ever, with his boyfriend. huh. funny that.
þþ doesn’t know what he wants, or what he already has

at a wicked, wicked club called ’sno drift’, i’m dancing away the drum’n'bass ecstacy that is all around. i meet this lovely boy named charlie — we have some lovely conversations outside in the lovely cold on the lovely smoking patio. seems like a sweetie — we exchange phone numbers. about a week later, we meet for drinks, some dancing, and see a movie. the next morning, he clarifies his situation — he’s in love with his ex-boyfriend… they’re separated, but will undoubtedly get back together. i wish them the best.
þþ longing for what he had, not thinking about what could be

is everyone hedging their bets these days? looking for vending machine love?