I wish I had someone to talk about this in person, but I don't...my therapist is on Tuesday so, for now, there is only hipforums.com---I started talking about my night in another thread and realized I'm highjacking it, so I figure I'd start another one. This is going to be long, so if you're not in the mood to read my thesis, by all means ignore this thread. For those who respond, I'm very much obliged. Anyway...I have a little problem with alcohol and I'm getting tired of the whole scene. So, yesterday, I'm planning a fucking quiet night. No drinking, nothing. Just go to a hooker, spend a couple hours, come back home. This "asshole", my 11-years-going friend (we might go into business together), convinces me to go out. That's partly because I was supposed to "confirm" with the sex-worker at 8pm, and she wasn't picking up her phone... So there I was, pissed off because I could have this beautiful black chick with great lips and lip-gloss wrapped around my cock, and instead I'm fucking going out again... So basically, I get kicked out of this bore of a party for touching a delusional, ugly girl's ridiculous dress for 5 seconds. The only thing that was interesting in that party was a conversation I had with this Cuban dude...interesting guy. The kind of conversation that is impossible across the gender-barrier, partially because of libidinal anxieties (my fault). And that is sad. Then, I fall flat on my face (the asshole gave me marijuana cake without telling me: "You know you just ate some weed right?" What an asshole...), and my chin starts bleeding (now it's just swollen). Then we go to a place that actually had good music and I dance my ass off (I like dancing and I'm probably better at it than I admit to myself). Then we get a summons for urinating in public (this is Brooklyn, a fucking gentrifying neighborhood...oooooooooo). I actually don't much remember this, by the way --- I sort of blacked out. And then we end up in this Puerto Rican restaurant, and had this gorgeous rice, beans, chicken, and hotsauce. And I take the cab home. In summa: what saved the night was the conversation with Cuban dude, dancing, and the spanish food. But essentially I had yet another disheartening, alienating experience...on several levels: 1) since I broke up with my girlfriend of 3 years (the only woman that truly impresses me outside of my family), and since we stopped being friends, I'm having these saddening thoughts about relationships in general: I think relationships are essentially sado-masochistic in nature; 2) on a more superficial level, now that I'm 30, I feel to old to think that fucking really matters. Whatever...everybody wants it, and everybody gets it. It's ultimately unfulfilling; 3) on a social level, I feel the only self-respecting position for a male going out on the town is to ignore women completely. But that is saddening, and it takes effort. Flirting with women makes me want more, and thereby I betray myself. And what happened to D (my friend) anyway? He used to be beautiful! He used to just be able to dance. Now he goes out and worries about women too much...it's hideous; 4) on yet another level...I'm tired of the whole amoral, relativistic scene. Like, in New York, in these hipster circles...everything goes...there are no norms of behavior or dress. Everything could be considered "cool" or "uncool" arbitrarily, at any given moment. Like, this dude has his underwear around his head --- that was thought very cool by some, gross by others. It doesn't matter, see...I could be in a suit, or I could have oil grease on my fuckin' cheek and a ripped-off shirt, and either is ok. I could be kind and repectful, and be considered a bore...I could be a total asshole and be considered "genuine". Either is both cool and uncool depending on who you talk to. Hipster New York for you...I'm sick of it. I guess it's ok. This alienating, futile, meaninglessness is part of the appeal of going out. It can be fun. But I have to be in the mood for it. Like I have to be in the mood for a hooker. And yesterday I wasn't in the mood for it... Anyway, now that I'm single and 30, I'm hyper-sensitive about the superficiality of human interaction in New York. I wish I had a sober friend to confide in...I wish I had a girlfriend...maybe. Instead, I'm having a bunch of superficial relationships and then write about them at hipforums.com --- Does anyone feel as hopeless about human relationships as me? Comments, please. Thank you.