Partyboy Confessions (Part 4)

Early morning drive through Jakarta from Illigals, a club downtown at the area where nice boys go to be bad, a Heaven! Jakarta secret party a.k.a snooze fest 2011. Music was blaring, porn videos were playing, go-go dancers were swaying, the room was dark and smoky and… abso-fuckin’-lutely nothing happened. People were either sitting down or randomly milling around or staring mindlessly at the screen. I suppose mingling is an alien concept among Jakarta gays. And a spontaneous public fuck-fest is even more out of the question, barring 9M and their infamous dark labyrinth.

Chemical gods be praised at these unforgiving times. At least I didn’t have to be fully-conscious through it all.

Now home, naked as God intended. My two friends just left. My two friends whom I just finished videotaping having sex right there on the leather couch in my room. Moans and groans punctuated the slaps of flesh on flesh as they raced to a very dramatic -and very messy- climax. Tissues. Words. Soap and water. More words. Cigarettes. Words, words, words. Done.

Shit, I’m winding low. The truly sucky fact about life is that every high must eventually come down. After the music dies, the lights turned on, and the trippy buzz wore off, I once again return to the complexity of me. The tattooed, strip-dancing, perverted, crazy-living partyboy’s fatal flaw: he’s a lonely, dreamy romantic at heart.

Dammit.

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