If you watched Buffy, you know that behind the door marked 314, something evil lurks.
I’m feeling that today.
Today is 314 days since the last time our club had a crowded dance floor, the last time my body vibrated with the music, the last time I looked out over a sea of handsome, smiling faces. Twenty-two years, I’ve worked in gay nightlife, and losing that these last 314 days, with no end in sight, has been hard. Yes, I’m aware so many have things so much worse, but right here, right now, I’m feeling the weight of those 314 days.
And just like that Adam plotline, I want it over.