“What did we do last night?” The hazards of hard partying …

Hi, friends and readers:

Have a look at this morning’s photo post. Does it bring back memories of your youth? You know what I’m talking about: a buddy has his house to himself for the weekend, so he calls you and ten other guys. “Let’s have a party,” he says.

The party goes into the wee hours; you don’t even recall the end of the evening, or how you ended up in bed with the guy lying next to you. Then you remember kissing someone. Who was it? No girls were at the party. Was it …? Oh, no: you made it with the guy in bed with you, didn’t you? Did anybody see? Oh, shit …. Your head’s pounding and you could drink a gallon of water. Why did you do this to yourself?

Well, we all have to learn our lessons, don’t we? I know I did. I can recall several embarrassing mornings like the one described above. (“You have to drink responsibly, Martin. Pace yourself at parties. Go home and sleep in your own bed.”) Yeah, right ….. I think it was Oscar Wilde who said, “The biggest mistakes we make in our love lives are the ones we regret the least.” Life’s no fun without doing stupid things now and then, right?

My boyfriend and I spent a quiet evening at home last night, dining on leftovers and watching a bit of football. (FSU clobbered Boston College.) We spent time on our back porch, enjoying the beautiful weather, then hit the bed around eleven PM. Today, we’ll pack for our trip to Gainesville for the UF versus Vanderbilt game and homecoming festivities. My boyfriend works today, so I’ll visit the YMCA by myself. I’m having dinner with an old friend in Tampa. Then I’ll pick up my boyfriend in the Element and we’ll cruise northward.

Outside, it’s sunny, cool and breezy. The weather tomorrow should be perfect for football. Go Gators! Tomorrow, friends, I want you to think of me in the midst all those cute college boys. Poor Martin: my tongue will likely get blistered from dragging it on the pavement while we walk to the stadium.

Have a nice Friday, everyone.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.