I live about four houses down from Roscoe’s with three other roommates. Our house borders on the alley, and there’s always something that happens there around the closing hours–we’ll always get some hoots and hollers. I haven’t really heard people having sex in the alley, but we’ll hear our neighbor yelling at people–she’s always trying to get some sleep. Every night I go to bed with a little Madonna, a little Whitney, whoever the flavor of that particular night is. I’ll tuck myself right into bed and kinda hear that constant beat–a thump, thump, the heart of gayville pumping its blood through all of us. Usually I start to feel like I’m missing something. It’s always a little tempting. The beauty of my room is that it has its own exit, a staircase to the back alley, and I can always sneak out and no one knows. There have been many occasions where I have responded to the call of the disco beat and have gotten up and gotten dressed–my standard outfit is anything somewhat tight. My roommates mock me for having a hard time staying home. There’ll be nights when I’ll come home and I’ll say, “I’m not moving from this house!” and the next thing you know I’ll be here.

–Erik Heinzen, computer consultant