God... you know what I miss?

You know what terrible radio station I miss?

Party 93.1.

They had like three songs that they played, but I always liked the songs, because I discovered the station right around the time I started dating Stephen... and I was in a blissful haze of retardedness at that time, having fallen freshly in love... and music seemed to mean more, because every song was about ME.

And then the station went away.

And eventually, Steve had to get out of Miami, or he would turn, like Lot's wife, into a pillar of cocaine salt.

And now, when I think of 2L year in law school when we started dating, I think of driving around in that little black Golf (awwww)...hearing the dance remix of Daniel Bedingfield's "If You're Not the One"...as I sped off to the Beach to misbehave with the older, richer gays... in boot-cut jeans and diagonally-stripey shirts (ugh.)

Every now and then that song will pop into my head (it's there right now) evoking waves of melancholy for the life I had in 2003 that I so took for granted... hundreds of friends living in this city... money that appeared out of nowhere to be spent on any self-destructive whim, one-day hangovers...boats, VIP admissions... caring about stuff, even though it was typically whether we'd make it to Rumi early enough to get past the door without a 1/2 hour wait...

I miss 2003. And I miss the me that could hang back then... I miss how exciting everything seemed. I miss bottle service, and clinking keys and little yellow beans, and sunrise on a Sunday morning at Space. I want to turn back the clock to certain eras in my life (that I knew were fantastic when I was living them...) and tell myself - enjoy this. Soak up every moment. Because eventually this chapter will be over... and the chapters get progressively less fun as time goes on.

I never knew Miami in the late 90s... but I knew it in the early 2000s... and it was a pretty fun party even then. Maybe it still is... I don't know. I look like I'm having a blast in all the pictures I'm in these days... and I probably am. But back then, I had the time of my life.

Coming up tomorrow: Why the Summer of 2004 kicked ass, because I made 30K, and blew it on liquor, drugs, and tuition!

Moderation.

As I am being spammed by Chinese Comments, commenting is hereafter moderated. I'll approve (almost) everything. Unless it's in Chinese. Then, you're SOL. Because your comment means nothing to me. Because I can't understand it. Speek-a-da-English here. I don't go onto Chinese Blogs and leave unintelligible comments in English.

I'd also probably recommend that no one click on the Chinese comments. They're probably a virus or something.

You've been warned.