A portrait of my gracious host on this trip, Ed

I want to write more about Saturday night, the White Party. I was in a great mood when we got there, and even without the benefits of substance abuse, I felt expansive, generous, engaging, giving. John Paul and I had both been looking forward to experiencing this together, as old friends - experiencing the kind of togetherness and outward flowing exuberance and joy that moments like this can give. We'd decided to take something (whose name I won't reveal for legal reasons), and make this a night of friendship to remember.

But this powerful little substence has some wicked barbs if your mind is not in the right place. For me, it made my joy and generosity even deeper. I found myself holding the door open for people, and smiling, making eye contact with older, out-of-shape men getting down on the dance floor. I felt like I wanted to hug the world. And many others felt like that, which is what provides that tribal sense of togetherness that people talk about at these events. It feels like a lot of people let down the barriers that normally keep you apart. Guys I've seen at the gym for years but never spoken to - suddenly we're yelling in each other's ears, grinning, and massaging each other's backs. Yeah, it's somewhat artificial; but I prefer to think of it as the way we'd all be if we weren't raised to be so uptight. Imagine a world where that kind of behavior was the norm. Wow!

Interestingly, not everybody behaves in the way just described - many (and usually the best looking, ripped guys) seem more engaging only to other similar hot looking guys, coldly snubbing all others - this says a lot about the smallness of their natures.

For John Paul, however, the experience was much different. He'd arrived in Palm Springs with a hatful of worries about his job, his age, his body. For a brief moment, we shared some joy, as we experienced the highs at the same time. He rubbed his little head against my chest, and I ruffled his hair and stroked the back of his neck. But it didn't last. The inward-looking mindset he came here with just got intensified by the substance, and he sunk into a deep funk. On Sunday morning, I went to the gym, and when I came back, he'd gone, returning to Los Angeles a day early. I feel that he's in deep trouble; that he's rapidly running out of resources; that he needs somebody to intervene in his life and help him make a fresh start. He's still a good-looking, healthy, smart guy - he could have a lot going for him if only he could get the drive. I'm debating when and where to have this conversation with him.

But to those who have luck (which right now seems to include myself), more luck is given. The first piece of luck came on Sunday morning when I went to the gym, and managed to smile my way into getting in for free. The second piece of luck came in the afternoon when one of Ed's buddies managed to get us VIP passes for the remainder of the White Party. This would give us free entry to all the remaining events, as well as access to VIP bars, and shorter lines. We went over to Ed's friend's house to pick them up. He had a beautiful, modern house, decorated in what I'd call high Versace style. The only odd thing was the closet full of military and leather regalia. Quite a collection of officers' hats from the armed forces of the US, Europe and the Soviet Union. He was a playful guy, and tried to persuade me to wear nothing but a codpiece for the afternoon tea-dance. I was tempted for fifteen seconds, but in the end I chose to maintain my wholesome image.

I spent most of Sunday partying, first at the tea-dance, with Ed, where I met up again with my navy boy of the White Party. It was so enjoyable to dance with him in the soft late-afternoon air, our arms around each other, my face nuzzling his neck. In the evening, I whipped out my free pass and got into the closing night party (which costs peons $50). Lots more beautiful men, and for a while, I enjoyed dancing with a bunch of hot Asian guys, one of whom I know from my gym. But by midnight, I was definitely feeling partied out, and finally headed home. My White Party was over.

And now, even after a long weekend of late nights, alcohol, and undereating (right now at the airport I'm wolfing down three slices of pizza - first solid meal I've had since lunchtime Saturday), I feel on top of the world, and full of energy. I'm buzzing with ideas. Ed had a gentleman caller on Saturday night, and in the morning, we sat around the table under the porch in the back yard, and chatted. He's a top-of-the-line mortage broker, and he strongly implanted the idea in my mind of buying propery here, and renting it out weekdays, and using it as a weekend home here in the beautiful desert. You can get beautiful new pool homes here for less than 250K - homes that would cost two million in San Francisco. And the property values are already shooting up here. I'm going to give it very serious consideration. It would mean some major changes in my life at first, if I was to be able to afford the mortage and furnishing the house while still renting in San Francisco. I might have to give up many of my current creature comforts; a personal trainer, regular massages, a therapist, a house cleaner, maybe even my car. A lot of thinking to do.

One of the best moments of the weekend came when I worked out on Sunday morning. I'd taken the risk (or more accurately I'd been unable to refuse the temptation) of drinking two cups of coffee, which made me incredibly nervous and jittery at the gym. I noticed a beautiful, lithe, exotic guy working out near me. He walked with an almost macho strut, and seemed quite unobtainable. It was this incident that made me suddenly realize I'm a changed person. It wasn't Palm Springs that changed me; but it was Palm Springs that helped me recognize the change. I smiled at this formerly unobtainable guy, then later, when he happened to be lifting weights near where I was doing bicep curls, I turned and asked him how he was doing. We started to chat, and I straightaway realized that his macho posturing came from the usual source of insecurity that keeps us all in some sort of facade. He was a sweet-natured, soulful 28-year-old from the Ukraine. We wrapped up our workouts (I'm sure he thought I was high, because of my nervous, jabbering energy) and went outside to talk. We agreed to call each other later in the day and spend some time together.

As I drove back to Ed's I whooped; the first time in fifteen years of gym-going that I've had the nerve to go up and talk to a hot guy at the gym. And it wasn't difficult, and it came from a new quality I've never had an abundance of, self-confidence. The change has been gradual over the last 6-8 months. First recovering finally from Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, which has dogged my entire adult life, then simultaneously being encouraged by my therapist to be more engaged with the world, and to take risks. When those risks pay off (and they usually have done), the reception I get, and the resulting feedback, just encourage me more.

The best part of all of this is that it frees me to be a more complete person. Hopefully, I will no longer need to hold back so much in expressing my feelings for others; the fact that I have an abundance of good things in my life means that I will hopefully want to give that to others, in the form of encouragement, support, love, happiness. Just smiling at the check out girl rather than coldly, impersonally taking my change. Traveling undoubtedly broadens you; the real test is can you take home what you learnt while traveling, and incorporate that in your daily life.