young love at splash

I have discovered that I live no more than 45 minutes from the city by car. Usually, because I have a lead foot, I can get there in about 30. This is incredible news because that means that I can play in New York all the time. This is the worst news ever because it means that I can play in New York all the time.

On Thursday, I met up with my favorite lovers, Genevieve and Camille who were in the city for a visit. It was my first time driving into Brooklyn, so I was asking my co-workers if they thought little gay me could handle badass Brooklyn. They said I could. They were right. I have an excellent sense of direction because on the way there, once I was actually in the city, I got lost (because the streets are ridiculous. Or maybe Google Maps is ridiculous. Something is ridiculous) but it was no worries, because I said "fuck it," and found my own way.

My super lovers and I decided to go to Splash. I've been to Splash before. I went there a few years ago with my friend Courtney directly after our first ever Madonna concert. My memories of that night are limited to this:

• Got in for free for being "cute."
• Go-Go boys clearly coked up.
• Great music.
• The DJ announcing that for the next 15 minutes, there would be $1 Coronas, after which Courtney disappeared, only to reappear seconds later with 4, count 'em, 4 Coronas in her hand.
• Going to McDonald's in Times Square at 3 in the morning.
• Getting lost on the Subway, ending up around Central Park and flagging down a car to take us home (it was not a taxi.)
• When we got to our hostel, there were roaches in our bed.

So, that was my first Splash experience. My second one was a bit more tame, as am I. However comma, it was still off the chain. Except for the $6 Bud Lights. $6. For a Bud Light. I also saw Cody, who I know from North Carolina. Crazy.

There was this really, really, really cute guy checking me out the entire night. He wanted it. Or he was just fascinated by the amount of sweat pouring out of my body and could not look away. That has also been known to happen. I decided, being the big New York boy that I am now, that I would actually go up and talk to him. I did. And he was 18. Which, I have no problem with, except I have a problem with it. At least, I think I did. Confused yet?

18 is young. And I always imagine myself with a guy who is older than me, who is tall, dark and handsome, etc. And I almost always find someone who is the opposite. I have not yet dated someone older than me. And then, there's this kid, and I call him a kid because he kind of is, and he seriously looks like he could be 27. But he's 18.

After talking with a few friends, I realized that I should really shut up with my bullshit standards and just have fun and try new things. 18 is definitely a new thing. So, I might try it if I can pull him away from the Disney Channel long enough.

Later that night, they played the Spice Girls, and I realized that I can still be 13 years old when I want to be, so age really ain't nothin' but a number.

After we lost about 20 pounds in water weight from sweating our asses off, we decided that we had had enough. I know why they call it Splash now, and it's because you are literally splashing your sweat in people's faces as you splash around in other people's sweat. Splashy splash splash. We hopped on the subway and went home. Of course, there was a crazy on the subway because there's always a crazy on the subway, and luckily, he was not directing his craziness at us because I only had my heavy L.A.M.B. shoes for protection.

Went home and woke up and made it on time for work the next day. I heart NY.