bk

More than Manhattan, I am in love with Brooklyn. It's funny - every time I ventured up to New York City for vacations, college-visits, Madonna concerts, etc., I never stepped foot in Brooklyn. I found Manhattan much more accessible, and I foolishly thought that Brooklyn didn't have as much to offer. I was wrong.

Every single time I've been to the city, I have to stop in Brooklyn first. Something about that borough injects me with youth like a shot straight to the vein. Anyone who knows me knows I don't have swagga, but when I'm in Brooklyn, I feel as close to having swagga as someone as white, geeky, and gay as me can be. This weekend was no different. My swagga was on and poppin', blindin' hipsters left and right.

On Saturday night, I was getting antsy to do some urban exploring, so I decided to head into the city. I wasn't sure if I would end up in Manhattan, or Brooklyn, or a dumpster. I decided to go alone. One of my biggest challenges when living in North Carolina, though I always wanted to, was doing things alone. I've always admired people who can go out alone, or spend an entire day with themselves and be okay with that. I guess I admire the self-confidence and the comfort they clearly feel just hanging out with themselves. I got dressed, got in the car, and headed to Brooklyn, without anyone and with no plans.

Of course, that didn't last long. The closer I got to the city, the more nervous I got not knowing anybody. So I called up a few friends and made some loose plans. Oh well, I'll try solitude on a Monday - this was Saturday night! Livvvvvve!

First, I met up with Courtney, Jess and Jake, all friends I knew from nights out and student-film music video making when I lived in Greensboro. I drank whiskey (a "hot toddy" to be exact) for the first time in my life! Why?! Because I was in Brooklyn, that's why. I'm telling you - it does something to me, man!

After that, I got invited to join another friend at a house party in Williamsburg. I headed over to it, nervous as hell that a) I wasn't going to be hipster enough; b) I wasn't going to know anybody; c) I wasn't drunk enough off that whiskey to figure out if I was going to become belligerent (my biggest dark liquor-drinking fear, since it seems to happen to others). In most cases, I probably would have just gone home and talked myself out of going. Of course, the magic of Brooklyn took hold and before I knew it I was standing outside on the roof of a building looking over the city.

I remember standing there, thinking that this was another dream of mine coming true. All the lights, which to me, represent the lives of the millions of people that are mixing together, falling apart, crashing, touching, feeling. I stood on the roof and told myself to take it in. There wasn't going to be another first time standing on top of someone's roof in the city where I would feel this feeling. It's crazy how something so simple, so classic, can mean so much to someone.

After I got out of my roof-trance, probably because of the cop that had suddenly appeared telling everyone to "get the fuck inside," I got the fuck inside, and took in the sights and sounds. I didn't feel like I belong, but not because the people didn't want me to belong, but because there was a freedom they all possessed that I don't have yet. Who knows if any of them even knew each other, but there was a level of comfort there. The reason why I didn't fully give in was only because of my own silly fear.

I stood there, downing Budweiser after Budweiser, and I had to head over to the iPod to see what fucking incredible song these crazy hipsters were playing. It had everyone dancing, everyone smiling, except for the guy in the hallway who was clearly on some shit trying to fight people. Everyone inside had their hands up in joy, praising the music gods for this gift. It was "Train in Vain," by the Clash. I was kind of embarrassed that I had no idea. I mean, I've heard of the Clash. I know they're huge and I should know them, but what a way to get introduced.

At about 2am, Robert, the guy I was partying with, was ready to head to Sugarland, the gay dive bar/club in Brooklyn that I originally had tried to get him to go to with me. We headed over, and I was skeptical about going to a damn club at 2am, thinking it was going to be dead. Oh no, Robert assured me, this place would be kicking. And judging by the 15 minute line we had to stand in, I'd say he was about right.

Once we got inside, I felt right at home. Hundreds of sweaty, gay or bi-curious dudes dancing to Lady Gaga in a gross, seedy, dive. Absolute perfection. Robert and I got a beer and made our way to the dance floor, which could have been mistaken for an orgy - not because there was nudity (not that I saw, at least), but because you were basically forced to have intercourse with people it was so fucking packed. As we started dancing, I let go of even trying to keep my new shoes clean and chugged the beer, since dancing with it was not really an option.

I ended up dancing with a stud muffin of a guy and was lost in the music. Seriously, I don't really know what became of Robert. I don't know what songs were playing. All I knew was that the club closed down while we were still dancing. Maybe it was the alcohol, the boy, or Brooklyn, but everything was hazy and I lost all sense of time. We walked the however many blocks to his house, and I realized I had to move my car before the morning to avoid a ticket. I literally had to drive 3 blocks. I passed a parking spot, reversed, and then saw the police lights.

Perfect. Gorgeous guy in the passenger seat, reversing on a one-way street, and probably alcohol on my breath. In most cases, I would be flipping out, but I just didn't really give a shit. Maybe I'm reckless. Or shameless. It could be true. The officer gave me a ticket, I put it in the glove compartment, parked in the damn spot, and walked to his house.

We stayed up talking until it was sunny outside, went to bed, and had brunch the next day. All this time, I've been a little lonely poopoo head, wishing I could find somebody to date and when I meet someone who has potential, my position on all expectations just loosens. Maybe it's just a defense mechanism, but maybe not. Things just keep feeling different for me - new - and this is one of those things. The whole night and next morning, I remember thinking "why would I want to rush something like this? This is the fun part." Getting to know somebody, not knowing where it'll go, and not caring too much what happens. Either way, he wants to hang out again, and I do too.

Besides, after all this time of wanting and wanting a boyfriend, or a quote unquote stable relationship, I think I've changed my mind. I just want someone to hang out with, laugh with, get traffic violations with, and kiss from time to time. Nothing else is important to me right now: monogomy, faithfulness, seriousness, romance.

All that matters to me is how I feel when I'm in Brooklyn.