For the first time in months, I decided to stay home on a weekend night.

*gasp*

I know.

But at about 2:30 this morning, as I lay face-down in the grass near the intersection of 1300 South and 500 East in downtown Salt Lake City, it occurred to me that perhaps it was time to take a break from drinking and dancing.

When I crashed into bed - finally - at a little after 5:00am, it still seemed like a good idea. And the drying-out-time continued to hold its attraction early this afternoon when I fumbled my way to the shower, cursing every noise and beam of light.

But now it’s 11:00pm, and I’m home alone.

And so very, very bored.

Patrick is in Ogden visiting his grandparents for the weekend, so we can’t even have a domestic couch potato movie night. My closest friends are otherwise occupied too, so maybe my decision to stay home wasn’t as valiant as I’d originally thought.

But Patrick and my friends were gone last night, too, so I conducted my drunken debauchery with the straight boys again, and had a grand ol’ time. At the gay bar, of course.

I am a lucky boy.

Straight Boy #1 even kept prodding me to “feel up” (his words) Straight Boy #3, saying #3 was drunk enough to go along and probably grope me right back. I agreed that he probably would, but declined, which was a hell of feat given how much I’d had to drink by then. SB#1 always buys me Jaeger shots when we go out, and I stopped counting at my 6th shot and 4th cocktail.

All in all, a great night out. I expect next week will be similar, but with the gay boys instead. Straight boys are only good for a gay old time every 6 months or so. They’re just fun for a fling, if you will.

It’s my gay boys who keep things going week in and week out, as reliable in their bitchy drunkeness, effortless dancing, and see-and-be-seen club selection as you’d expect them to be. And thank God for that.