8/22/96 - Decadent

8/22/96 - 1810 Chapala

Decadent, decadent, decadent. I'm sprawled naked in bed at noon on a Thursday, toying with the idea of going to the beach. I'm planning to go to the Bay Area this weekend, and now have the option of driving up a day early.

I called in sick today, hungover. I'm feeling the rather delicious fatigue of the end of a hangover, when the headache's gone and you've eaten something, and you just want to loll about. I was feeling guilty about missing work, but now I'm just embracing the decadence.

So I did my usual overindulgence at Fathom last night. Jessica and Jeff finally came out, seemed to enjoy themselves, and left early. I ended up at the East Goleta home of one Evan, a really cute blond of indeterminate age. Just yummy being a total bottom; his cock was a bit small, but he was so into it that it didn't matter. I was lying on my stomach as he fucked me, and we got a great rhythm going, so it was as if we were fucking each other, if one sees the distinction.

So much for my resolution not to party. Maybe there's some juice to be squeezed from this summer's fruit after all. [Cliche stolen directly from the California Fruit Growers Assn. commercials from a couple years previous. Thank you! I'll be here all week!]

I guess I should've been more annoyed at Jeff for thinking Fathom was "too much of a gay scene." It is more conventionally gay than Revival was, but I don't think he remembers how gay Revival actually was! Anyway, we all had fun dancing, a bit of the old magic on the floor with Jess. But spending time with Kate and Mike, and the J & J are reminding me how deadly dull marriage looks from this angle. The Mussons' talk of actually getting used to and enjoying getting up early was a bit appalling. Does growing up really mean this? And how childish am I for having these thoughts?

[Pretty childish. I'm now looking at this debate from the other side, and feel like I do my best thinking in the early morning, and am exhausted by 10:30 PM. Which is not to say John and I don't indulge in nightlife; it's one of the things we have in common, and a major reason we choose to pay the hideous rent required to live in downtown San Francisco. But the trade-off definitely has been made.]

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