md_donighal (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
md_donighal) wrote2004-10-17 11:45 am
md_donighal) wrote2004-10-17 11:45 am
What happened the first time you got drunk?
As it happens, the answer to this question is also the answer to an earlier question I've been thinking about answering.
It was the eve of my twenty-first birthday. Some of father's students took me to a speakeasy in the metropolitan Boston area to celebrate the New Year and my incipient coming of age. Once we'd all reached the point of rip-roaring drunkenness, most of them left to get their ashes hauled (which, for those of you unfamiliar with the term, is a slightly more poetic way of saying "to get laid"). A young man I won't name, who had an apartment nearby, offered to let me sleep on his couch, and we left together.
Suffice it to say that I didn't wind up sleeping on his couch. In fact, neither of us got very much sleep at all.
The playwright Mart Crowley refers to the "Christ Was I Drunk Last Night" syndrome. When two closeted men get tight and horse around, and have to face each other in the morning, there's nearly always a lot of bullshit slung around to the effect of "Man, I was so drunk last night, I don't remember a thing!" That syndrome was very much in force between myself and mine host the next morning.
And I was relieved, too. I was worried he might ask me about the name I'd called him by at the damnedest moment you can think of.
So, that's the story of how the Beacon Mal got drunk and lost his virginity. If any Terats or Terats-to-be are somehow reading this, I cordially invite them to comment and say how loud they burst out laughing at the thought of me doing anything so... human.
It was the eve of my twenty-first birthday. Some of father's students took me to a speakeasy in the metropolitan Boston area to celebrate the New Year and my incipient coming of age. Once we'd all reached the point of rip-roaring drunkenness, most of them left to get their ashes hauled (which, for those of you unfamiliar with the term, is a slightly more poetic way of saying "to get laid"). A young man I won't name, who had an apartment nearby, offered to let me sleep on his couch, and we left together.
Suffice it to say that I didn't wind up sleeping on his couch. In fact, neither of us got very much sleep at all.
The playwright Mart Crowley refers to the "Christ Was I Drunk Last Night" syndrome. When two closeted men get tight and horse around, and have to face each other in the morning, there's nearly always a lot of bullshit slung around to the effect of "Man, I was so drunk last night, I don't remember a thing!" That syndrome was very much in force between myself and mine host the next morning.
And I was relieved, too. I was worried he might ask me about the name I'd called him by at the damnedest moment you can think of.
So, that's the story of how the Beacon Mal got drunk and lost his virginity. If any Terats or Terats-to-be are somehow reading this, I cordially invite them to comment and say how loud they burst out laughing at the thought of me doing anything so... human.