Trevor and Dana, August 2003

The parties I threw in college were debauched. Ask anyone. I strove for an atmosphere of carnality, of savage lust softened by a tacky porno glaze like those hazy, 80s Vaseline-blurred photos in Playboy. People got laid at other parties. But at mine you got naked and ran around licking people and getting licked back for no reason. You tested your boundaries, not in a gross orgy kinda way, but in a playful, light-hearted way, like it all was a big joke. As if nothing you did could actually hurt you or change who you were in any way. You put your clothes back on when it was over and went home unscathed, unchanged and with a smile on your face.

That’s the way I remember it anyway.

Cam, August 2003

For my friend Ellen’s 21st birthday, we all drove up to Brevard, North Carolina, to go camping. I hadn’t been camping since I was three years old and my mom took me along on a trip with the Girl Scout troop she led. I had vague memories of a really muddy campsite and a lot of mud getting into our tent. Even as a little kid, that bothered me.

Brian, Summer 2003

For some reason Brian and I are on my kitchen floor. It’s almost 3 a.m. on a Monday morning. My roommate is asleep. It was his birthday and we went out to Sky Bar—which used to be Babylon, which everyone called “Baby Land” because of all the underage kids who would get in to do drugs back when I was in high school and North Carolina was experiencing the tail end of rave culture—for “80s Night” which is code for the club’s gay party. For some reason Brian and I ended up kissing on the dance floor, which was really unexpected because I’ve never once thought about him in a sexual way. I’ve never wanted to have sex with him. He’s a nice guy, a friend of a friend. I usually see him when we go out to gay bars. I guess he’s cute, in an unspectacular, teddy bear kind of way. But he just hasn’t been on my radar. I’ve never wanted to have sex with him.