naked parties

I want to experience Chicago as I did when I first came here in my early twenties. I used to visit my good friend in a Bronco II that my dad bought for $500. I was supposed to move in with Hillary but chickened out at the last minute.

I would come to her apartment with Tidy Cat box of videotapes that I anticipated us all watching- Bette Midler concerts, Absolutely Fabulous episodes, 90's indie gay movies. I never travelled anywhere without my VHS's.

Summer in the city for a suburban gay twentysomething boy was like Disneyland. If only I could be that skinny again with bleach blonde hair. Thrift store clothes. Full of horniness and not understanding how to harness it. Awkward at every level.

Everyone smoked back then. It was heaven. Coffee in the morning and cigarette after cigarette after cigarette. Pre-internet, pre-9/11, pre-facebook, pre-Grindr.

I had anxiety and depression then. As I do now. I must be blocking that out now- because all I can remember is the heat and the no air conditioning. Drinking deliciously excessively and able to withstand it. To get sloppy sexy hilariously drunk. We had naked parties. We would have a whole party where everyone would get naked. It's amazing how fast the self consioucness of being naked melts away, when you realize that everyone is the same. Everyones bodies have weird issues.

Lots of dancing, 90's music, Janet, Madonna, Pet Shop Boys. Electric synthetic beats and buzzes. The Clinton era. No real responsibilties.