Life After Clubbing

The other day I hung out with A- , an old friend from the days when I clubbed most vigorously.

We went to see a screening of remastered Apollo footage. It was a fun, factual time. What floored me, though, was how much this woman I used to spank knew about NASA’s manned space program.

A- had never come across as dumb. Our shared interests had just never surfaced before the day I posted the event and asked who wanted to go. This lack of a deeper bond was no doubt due to most of our previous interactions having been at clubs, where scenes going on in front of us –or involving us — tended to distract us from deeper conversation.

Nowadays A- is a working mom who rarely goes out. She seemed surprised and more than a little amused that the artsy, edgy D now even writes fanfic. It would be a lie if I said I don’t sometimes miss those whirlwind days. The new scenes weekendly, or new partners every few months — there was a rush to all of that. But I don’t miss the insecurity, the constant worry about whether X (XX) finds me attractive or whether Y (or XY) isn’t a serial killer in disguise. I like being able to have guaranteed playtime with someone I trust and spend lazy Sunday mornings doing crosswords on the Starbucks patio with everyone we know coming up to admire our dog and say hi.

A- seemed to agree.

So it was altogether gratifying to share time with a friend from those hedonistic days. We talked science and politics, but we also exchanged gossip about what was going on with various pervy acquaintances, and talked about how cool it to walk through Home Depot with your kinky husband and squeeze hands when one or the other of you spotted something that could be pervified. So many other friends from that time in my life have vanished or faded away. Like J- the indie filmmaker. The last time I saw her, she was so weak and strung out, her brilliant, open mind now cynical and crusted over by years of searching for a fix — and then getting it.

It’s nice to know that some of us made it out okay.


Featured image via the Albus Hotel, Amsterdam.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s