In my twenties and early thirties I lived a big life.

I spent most of it in inner city Sydney, where it is hard to be unaffected by life. I worked and played with bright, beautiful and funny gay men, (and some straight men from time to time). I spent my days propping myself up, recovering from the nights.. (Sunday – Monday was always a 5am finish and a 9am start to the day).
We’d start at a cocktail/wine bar on Oxford Street (where I saw a big girl stripper once in a bar full of gay men – she was the night’s goddess and was still there 4 hours after her job had finished..) to theatre (best seats for us – we all worked in the industry), schmooze in the foyer like it was our loungeroom, then down back streets and in through the staff entrance at boutique restaurants (at least 8 of us on any one night).. then back to the theatre after all the punters had gone (free drinks and philosophising with bar staff until 2am) and then back to one of our favourite restaurants to drink liquers and try out the chef’s latest creations which hadn’t quite made it to the menu yet.. and cuddle into each other. Cab’s home at 5am.

I wonder why I didn’t ever save money in those years.. yet.. we were like pretty rats.. we’d eat and drink most times for free wherever we went.. or maybe that was just me..
Shivers. Maybe I was the only rat?

Nights and nights and nights of that – years – theatre, shows, music, beautiful restaurants, stunning company, lots of alcohol.. (lots)..

I also remember something frightening. The night my best gay boy friend was admitted to hospital for emergency surgery (he had called me earlier and I had told him to have a cup of tea and a lay down! Not my best doctory suggestion). After I had signed papers to confirm I was his significant other (a tender moment) he was wheeled to surgery .. drugged up he waved and said ‘Off to the theatre again!’
Funny man.
I met him twelve years after he had been diagnosed with HIV. All I knew who had been diagnosed in the 1980’s died within years of the first rounds of treatments. My friend C. not once took medication (other than speed and vodka). The last I heard, he was still well more than twenty years later.

That was my life six years ago. Flat out, surrounded by a family of friends (drunk most of the time).
In comparison, I am reclusive now.
I haven’t missed it, I have liked the change.. but last night.. I wanted it back.