stack ‘em up/how you doin’?
i decided to really take care of myself this weekend—plenty of exercise, relaxation and vitamins…
after a good-but-not-too-good, fun-but-not-exciting, sweet-but-not-titillating second date with jez on thursday, i was ready for the one of those weekends—one of those weekends where, like john dixon to steven carter, you say fuck me! i mean, no, erm, not that, but, you know—fuck, me!.
friday met up with marky for an early pub trawl around soho. you can tell that summer is over when more than half the pufftas you cruise on old compton street pre-emtpively wear their burberry scarves over their light autumn jackets. met carl at andrew’s new flat in earls court to watch the new episode of ab fab. we created a simple drinking game… we each randomly chose a phrase, and whenever your phrase was mentioned by patsy or eddy you’d have a drink. lucky me, my phrase was darling, and within minutes i was happily trolleyed. after a comical black cab ride, we staggered into .popstarz, where i drugged atif, and did some catch and release fishing—it’s too time consuming to drag them all the way home, much easier to just have your fun at the club. had another rondezvous with my tufty, my internet stalker/stalkee neighbor.
saturday i hitchhiked to atif and john’s fabulous pad out in stratford—by all appearances they’re living in marital bliss. i bartered a few beers in exchange for the new sugababes album on minidisc—brilliant, and i think half the tracks will be hit singles, especially nasty ghetto. atif and i then tiptoed over to swedish jacob’s swinging pad for some pre-clubbing cocktails and convo. a dozen cocktails and rickshaw ride later, we’re at .heaven, where we narrowly escape the drag queens’ drama, manny’s drunkenness, and the new security camera in the vip toilets.
i run into jeff, the nice sweet charming lovely cute handsome sexy smart fun musical mature canadian lad that i hooked up with a few weeks prior. he was pleasant, and claimed that the reason he hadn’t called me was because erm, well, i knew you’d be busy with stuff. i smooch him just a bit, so he gets a taste of what he’ll be missing. i think he’s lovely, but i guess i’ll have to call off the wedding plans. bastard—who does he think he is, rejecting me?!
later in the evening, after the main room at .heaven is filled with smoke, lazerrrrs and pilled-out chinese raverkids, i run into the young lanky outrageously tall and skinny punk rawk brazilian lad, will, who i had spent a lovely evening with about a month ago. the attraction between us is fierce, and we made vague plans to meet this week. sure he’s gorgeous, but also he’s foreign, speaks in broken english, lives far away, has no money and is young—he’s the stereotypical boy that i keep finding myself entangled with in this godforsaken couldron of twinks that is london.
since .beyond got closed down for getting in trouble for bribing the police massive drug busts unknown reasons, the afterhours party scene has been reshuffled a bit. poppers atif and i dove into the dank depths of vauxhall to hit the post-sleaze crash afterhours party. booming tribal funky uplifting house, humidity so thick sweat drips down the walls, friendly bears, tweaking twinks, saucer-eyed circuit boys bumping and grinding and tripping and falling to the music. so many delicious protocols… i feel so decadent and naughty for knowing to bribe the toilet attendant, not freaking out when someone collapses in front of me, handling crowded sketchy urinal troughs with confidence and being able to turn down offers of threesomes from fit couples.
so, that was the exercise and vitamins… the relaxation came in the form of a trip to chariots, my first sauna experience. after nearly 20 hours of dancing in one short weekend, i need some steam, some heat, some release. do i feel guilty? was it sleazy? have i crossed a line that i never thought i’d cross? no. to be honest, it was just a bit of relaxation and i highly recommend a trip to anyone who’s never been to a sauna… not nearly as frightening as one might expect.
a weekend of sleaze, drugs, decadence, debauchery, sex and adolescence [erm, i mean, exercise, relaxation and vitamins] to balance a week of corporate hoo-haa, financial stresses, romantic debacles and general apathy. one might wag one’s finger, tsk tsk you’ve just thrown your weekend away with mindless hedonism, but i rejoice in drinking with friends in their homes, riding the train home from clubs with mates, shmoozing with peers in vip rooms, flirting and toying and chatting with strange strangers, discussing laplacian transforms with fellow physicists, and gossiping/arguing with acquaintences throughout—socializing to the extreme.
i’m not gonna even stress about sorting out jez, canadian jeff, brazilian will, benjys james, tufty, dollhouse christian or that random deejay bloke that keeps popping up everywhere. and then there’s that one lad whom i’ve been trying to seduce forever and with whom i had an interesting webcam, erm, conversation with this evening. he’s not supposed to read bloghserf, but, since i know he does—when are we having dinner?
