I was in Belgium last December and somewhere along the line I ended up in Fort Lauderdale for New Years. It was truly God’s waiting room for dying gays. Depressing. The same old disco hits they blasted in the bars I worked in day in and day out. On incredibly shitty PA monitors that sounded muffled and had ear-piercing treble. Beer soaked sidewalk. Tacky vinyl tarps and tents. I would have had more fun if I’d just driven the 160 miles to Key West and WENT to the bar I used to work at.

Why, why, why did I think that would be fun?

I ended up leaving that nonsense and driving to Miami for the last AA meeting at Sober on South Beach.

This year I just wanted to stay in bed.

11:37 rolled around and some 25 year old kid I’d talked to on and off asked me to come over. “At least get a new years kiss.”

Alright. It’s been awhile.

I got over to his grandma’s house at 11:55.

Idk where the fuck it was, Asuza or Pomona or something.

You know. Out on 60, who cares?

We talked a few minutes. 12:00 came around. I was nervous.

I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.  I held on to him and we hugged for a long time.

I could tell he needed a hug as badly as I did.

I had a brief mental image of the time I fucked Daniel in the passengers seat.

I kissed him harder.

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