Taylor Swift 1989

Taylor Swift as Foreplay

R.B. Winters
R.B. Winters
Bar, Friends, Larrymore, Late Night, Russian 0 Comments

Taylor Swift 1989Most people enjoy Halloween. Maybe not to dress up, but at the very least people enjoy the excuse to behave like a ridiculous mess and receive no judgement whatsoever. And who am I to pass up an opportunity to misbehave.

The parents in town and staying with me, it was only appropriate to take them out, masks and all, for drinks and debauchery. Our drinks, strong by design and early for the evening actually worked a little too quickly. Getting my father so drunk I put our group on hold, grabbed a cab and ran the parents back to my apartment. Tricking them with the promise of food it was surprisingly easy, thank the lord our family is made up of fun, happy drinkers. I did actually order them food, but for some reason it never arrived and was impossible to track once I was back out with friends.

Larrymore, the Russian and I did some light bar hopping and heavy drinking, doing everything possible to punish livers and ensure the next day would come with a fresh hangover. Somewhere around bar three and drink number something it was time to text Late Night. It’s the magic of alcohol that tells you, ‘Hey, it would be a really good idea to send sexually explicit messages to another human being.’

Fast forward through the boring moments you could care less about and to the point of getting back to Late Night’s apartment. He turned on Taylor Swift’s new album, which I exclaimed love for to his surprise. I’m twenty-nine and gay, of course I love Taylor. My demographic is the gay male equivalent to fourteen year old girls as far as musical taste. But things became interesting, or is it comical, when we began debating which was the best song on the album. The song at the bottom of this post is in my mind the best from this album. More important, how gay is this debate? Not that I have complaints, but who is it that straight people argue about between kissing?

Add to this, Late Night ordering food. Okay, every good night ends with the delivery of some delicious and probably bad for you food. But it was taking forever to arrive. Late Night was nodding off on hold for the restaurant about the time I decided to wait in his bed and stay warm. This was my first bad idea of the night because it ensured the part of my brain that only thinks about food and sleep was allowed to takeover. The next thing I know, it’s eight in the morning, I’m getting walk of non-shame coffee while being judged by the Starbucks baristas. Jokes on them, there was no sex, so there can be no shame.

Another Halloween in the books, but I give it an overall ‘A.’ [For alcoholic.]