Friday night rituals over the years:
- 1972: The Brady Bunch. The Partridge Family. Room 222. The Odd Couple. Love, American Style.
- 1977: Stay home. Get depressed because I don’t have any friends.
- 1979: Football games. Smoke cigarettes. Impress potential friends.
- 1980: Go to the mall. Smoke cigarettes. Get stoned with new friends. Come home and pretend I’ve been doing neither. Fool no one.
- 1981: Work at McDonald’s. Smoke cigarettes. Come home and pretend I’m not depressed about the fact that I no longer have friends since I no longer get stoned.
- 1984: Radio show. Smoke cigarettes. Pretend I’m not depressed about not having a boyfriend.
- 1985: Drive drunk to the queer bar in Winston Salem with friends. Get still drunker. Misplace cigarettes several times. Drive home. Pretend this isn’t a problem.
- 1990: Spend the evening drinking lots of free beer at XTC, smoking cigarettes, and being aloof. Drive home.
- 1994: Sit at home depressed and wishing the boyfriend I had could actually spend some time with me like he said he would. Smoke lots of cigarettes.
- 1995: Hole in the Wall. My Place. Ringold Alley. Manic anonymous sex. Cigarette afterward on the way home.
- 1999: Dinner with Dan and Jamie. Smoke cigarettes, while pretending not to be generally freaked out by life right now. In bed alone by midnight. Sigh with relief that at least I pretty much don’t drink anymore. Drinking might not be prudent this week.
There’s a message here. I’m not sure if I know what it is or if I want to hear it.
