Saturday, September 6, 2008


Today I had the strangest dream. I went out with my friend Jeffrey, the most solid guy I know, which is a fact I never tire of telling him. We had wine, vodka, whiskey, Speed (BA's answer to Red Bull) and danced like there was no tomorrow with boys half our age.

Wait wait wait wait wait! That was no dream. That was real life. Nights out with Jeffrey, who is also from the U.S. and lives here in Buenos Aires part-time, are always a treat because we both are people who can go to the lamest places--which we often do--and still have a killer great time. One of our favorite pastimes is sizing up all the boys we see and categorizing them. My favorite: boys with bodies that look like Alanis Morrissette's in the "Thank You" video. It was inspired by a guy I dated briefly, to whom we now refer simply as "Alanis." I won't go into any more details (hint: one involves totem poles), lest you think we're a couple of bitchy old queens, but what a great way to pass that initial hour before the spirits kick in and we enter mingling mode.

Last night, we went to Angel's, site of so many of my recent misadventures. There was no sign of Hernan or his red pants, thank God, but there was enough eye candy to hold our attention. Angel's is an interesting place because most of the guys who go there don't speak much English, but they love to try it on you anyway. (That Hernan didn't did not go unnoticed.) And since Jeffrey is tall and blond, and I'm tall and black (much-in-demand physical attributes here), few guys leave without doing that. The first question to come out of their mouths, haltingly, loudly, invariably: "" 

It's a completely overused opening line that they should consider discarding off the nearest cliff (and last night I distinctly recall responding Denmark at one point), but it's always refreshing to meet people who try to make you feel more welcome in the country by speaking to you in your own language. If I'm interested, I usually let them off the hook and we continue in Spanish. If not, I let them do all the heavy lifting.

For once, I left before Jeffrey did. Today, he told me that he ended up staying out until 11 in the morning. After leaving Angel's, he went to the hostel where one of the three guys he was hanging out with was staying, joining them for the continental breakfast (complimentary hotel breakfasts in South America, by the way, are so much better than they are in the U.S.) that was being served and sipping beer on the side. That's so me (beer optional) that I'm surprised I wasn't there. That's why I love Jeffrey. He's the only person I know in BA who lives on the same edge on which I'm teetering. But as much as I love the nightlife, I adore my couch too, and I like to think I live a productive life (I even went running today, which I generally don't do after a late night). Jeffrey is the same way (although he skipped the gym today), so aside from occasionally nudging each other in the direction of the wrong guy, we aren't bad influences on each other.

In a few hours we'll do it all over again. I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow.
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