Tuesday, October 18, 2005

Why "After Hours"?

Goodness gracious me...

...when I was in my mid to late twenties I was a little party animal. I went to nightclubs, well, nightly. Amazingly, I usually made my way into work, as well. However, if I was off from work the following day, I'd usually head over to freaky and fun "After Hours" parties at different people's humble abodes.

Many of these nights are quite fuzzy memories for me. Niether warm fuzzies, nor cold pricklies. Just a blur. I remember these nights being full of outrageous conversations, even more outrageous sights, and genuine outlandishness and nastiness.

I remember the live DJ set up in someone's living room, spinning the tunes in a Jockstrap.

I remember searching for a restroom, opening a door to see two guys having completely nude hardcore sex while others in the bedroom just sat around watching...only then did I discover the restroom next door where I overheard the following exchange between two shirtless guys:

"So...where's your boyfriend?"

(Opening the bedroom door)

"That's him on the bottom...hi, honey...having fun?"

"Grunt, moan, oh yeah!"

Yes, many interesting "After Hours" events still trickle through my mind. I don't regret the experience of going to them in the slightest. I was a Southern Baptist angel, prior to these life-changing, mind-altering parties.

Yes, I enjoyed the excess.

This past weekend, I was hanging with some friends. They ended up getting a call / invite to an "After Hours" party at someone's house. Was I in? Well, it's been a good five years since I had been to one of these wild events.

You betcher sweet ass I was in.

Once we arrived, I see roughly 15 people trying their best to dance to the stereo thumping with gay vocal house anthems. The ecstacy had obvious taken hold of these kids and they were having a "gay ol' time".

I was, too. Reliving my wild days, it was fun to watch these early twenty-somethings. Well, until they stripped off their shirts.

Holy shit! When did 20-year-olds learn that they needed to work out and have trim, toned, hot bods? Nobody shared this with me when I was that age. I guess Mtv has educated the youth of today, that they best get some style and hot bods, or else. The propaganda obviously works. These boys were a visual feast and emotional orgasm to watch. Delicious.

Then, it happened...reality took hold.

Damn...I'm 35-years-old. While my clothes looked fierce (I love my Diesel "Rookie Rooster" t-shirt) and my hair was a nice spikey euro-mohawk, my body looks like mashed potatoes (Ida Ho'an, I suppose).

What the hell was I doing at these kids' "After Hours"?

With my best friend passed out on the chaise lounge, I began to get down on myself, when I wanted to be going down on one of these tasty little nuggests of Asian / Latin / Almond-skinned sexiness.

Was that going to happen? Hell, no.

I did sit there and discuss my "issues" with the sweetest guy. He just happened to be the host of the party. He was my saving grace for my sanity.

Why did I keep calling him Oscar, when his name was OLIVER?

(God, I'm an ass.)

1 Comments:

Blogger Mikester said...

some afterhours!!
i remember those days........lots of unbridled fun.....
things change in strange ways... :)

12:05 PM

 

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