oh. oh. seven.

i spent most of tuesday afternoon with atif, enjoying a bit of christmas snow and [smirnoff] ice, rocking out to my three mix cds, and trying to find a costume for the spyboy launch party that evening. digging through my costumes, i found my brittney spears ensemble from my college days, as well as some entirely-too-tight sailor pants… i always wondered why seamen always needed like 30 buttons on their trousers… i guess to prevent easy access to the poop deck.

still flying high, i met up with fledgling pornstar darian and his lovely boyf duncan at the pseudo-swank blank tie premiere of eurocreme‘s latest porn flick, spyboy. plot: james bonk fights german spies.

unlike the last porn premiere i attended, this time my senses [including my sense of well-being] were completely overwhelmed. the [incredibly hot] stars worked the crowd while their performances played on monitors all around the bar, the sounds of grunting and slapping and slurping echoing loudly in surround-sound, darian in his element, meeting colleagues and doing the whole networking thing while i sickly nursed my free cocktails, trying to make smalltalk above the moans of ecstasy, or nervously giggled at the porn whilst avoiding eye contact with the stars.

i celebrate the idea of pornography [although i believe that straight porn has perpetuated sexism and belittlement of women and their sexuality], and i neither am in awe of or look down upon porn stars. i’m about as sex-positive as they come, i’m a liberal new-millenium big-city gay boy. but something didn’t sit right with me last night.

there was an air of pretentiousness and faux-celebritydom, the type of which has been taking over soho and the london gay scene quite drastically. i met a few of the stars—they were lovely—whereas all of the hangers-on, the crew, the other media whores that were there just seemed to be too far up their own asses. i was on the verge of running away when jack coincidentally texted me, looking for a celebratory post-exams drink.

next thing i know, it’s about 9pm, i’m starting to get tipsy from a dozen or so free cocktails, not having eaten all day, being force-fed [ala clockwork orange] porn ad nauseum, and my loverly sweet i’d-like-to-pretend-he’s-innocent guy-i’m-sorta-dating jack enters the fray. darian [jokingly] flirts with jack, jack takes the piss of darian, jack runs into friends, qboy marcos arrives, marcos meets jack, jack psychoanalyzes marcos, i meet a few fans of xy, darian sneaks off to the toilet with some boy, eric and jack draw a crowd of onlookers and get the so-pleasantly-familiar comments, you’re a cute couple, and, in the end, everyone plays nicely.

drugs, porn, boys, egos, media, shmoozing and a lovely late-night snack with a lovely lovely lad.