The Mike Haddad Show: This is relevant to my interests.

Once upon a time I was an active club hopper. Ok that's not really true – I could only handle clubbing once or twice a month because even on the best days, when you leave with one or two other people, you still end up feeling sick with yourself afterwards. Then the inevitable post-club experience depression sets in and you're a cranky bitch for two or three days. It only makes matters worse when you don't leave with someone though.

While talking to a friend of mine who wants my almost-sex, a boy came up in conversation that I had met at one of the clubs. It's a well known fact that while it's occasionally hard to have a relationship with someone you've met on the internet, it's almost damn near impossible to have a relationship with someone you've met at a club. Let me rephrase that: a decent relationship with potential to last into the future.

I however happen to be a glutton for suffering, so when a boy in a club came along that didn't look too sketched out on letters of the alphabet I pounced. Well not literally, although that would have made for quite a scene. The friend I was with when I decided to do something totally called me on it. Boy did I learn my lesson. It was an interesting transition to watch though.

I caught a boy right at the beginning of club life. So it was cute outfit, cute hair, and cute face. Try some drugs, and have a good time. That was the philosophy. It worked well enough for me to want to stick around - at least for two weeks.

By the end of the two weeks I was more than frustrated with everything involving the relationship and the boy, and just life in general. So I pulled out – nothing like a New Kid to really mess things up.

I still see him around sometimes. I watched a really sharp downward spiral into the scene. It always puts things in perspective when you see someone turn to drugs, and then clothes, and then makeup to make them seem like they're in control of their life. I never recognize him when I see him anymore, although I do hear from mutual acquaintances that he's hitting the drugs hard and not talking to them. This is normally while I'm out trying to have a good time, and he's off doing god knows what with god knows who because he doesn't want to be with the people he made come usually due to the fact that they worry about him.

So, when I started this story I thought that I would some how make it as amusing to read as it is for me to retell. However now I think it might just be really depressing. So, I'll leave you with something to make you laugh. A picture of us falling to our doom. Or at least a lot of pain on a blue mat.