I used to go to raves in the late 90s to early 00s. the tone changed and I had to stop, you couldn’t enjoy what you were doing because of the people who started showing up.
my first experience was life changing and I got hooked. I was young and sheltered, growing up in what I learned was not a normal home life (in fact it would be considered abuse today but I just always thought of it as normal, goes to show how child abuse works I guess), got brought to a rave and discovered a new world of experiences I didn’t think were possible. the concept remains simple, show up at a normally giant empty space like an abandoned warehouse or unused office, take e, and rub against beautiful girls while bouncing to the beat. as someone who was inexperienced with physical contact, it was like traveling to another universe made of pure happiness.
mdma, or e, or molly, or ecstasy whatever you want to call it has the effect of changing normal touch into pure pleasure. seems logical that people would want to take some and then join a giant dance party. it wasn’t what you might think though, at least not when I went in the early days. you show up, take a pill, and find the nearest girl so you can both bounce around while touching each other everywhere. rubbing each others arms, hair, fingers, faces, legs, back, belly. it was sexual but it wasn’t sex, it was remarkably innocent. sure, people had sex too, but for me it was just being around another girl my age who saw me as her partner for the moment, her social equal and not her inferior, and we experienced pure joy together. they were all amazingly gorgeous and there were thousands willing to spend their time with me. it was like mirror universe high school.
I got addicted, some time around 2001. not necessarily to e but to the raves themselves. helped promote a few, which was tricky since you wanted them to be something like an open secret. I do remember a lot being broke up by the arrival of police, but the vast majority of those were at least after a few hours. heard a rumor that organizers would call the police on purpose to make sure everyone went home, no idea how much truth there was to that claim.
problems started showing up about 2003-ish. it was like a bucket of ice water on my life the first time I experienced this, the memory is burned into my soul. show up at a warehouse rave, take e, the first girl I dance with is ready willing and able, I spend about 20 minutes with her, she wanders off and I go elsewhere to find another girl dancing by herself. I do nothing but gently brush my fingers of my left hand along the back of her left arm from behind, and she whips around with a look of pure hate on her face like I just pressed a hot iron against her. I am absolutely sure she was smiling just a second before, but now it was like she had been duplicated and replaced by a being of pure anger. she shoved me immediately and began doing what I can only describe as nagging. “how dare you touch me, who do you think you are, you can’t go around touching strangers.” I tried to listen for what seemed like 50 hours of this while sputtering apologies and explanations I had never thought to consider, then I staggered off to sit by myself for the rest of the night. someone came by and compelled me to get back out there and continue, they explained that it was alright and I should just find another girl and try again. I did and it turned out ok but my heart wasn’t in it anymore, I was struck to my core with the reaction of this one irrational woman.
from then on afterward I would at least audibly announce my presence and make sure she saw me before I touched her (a gentle ”hey” or something), always bracing for the rejection I had never experienced before. sure enough, at some point, half the girls showing up would turn to me to explain how I was ruining their night and how I NEEDED to get away from them right now. I would see them later with other guys so I naturally began to resent them. I had no idea what I was doing wrong, although on reflection most of the guys they decided not to berate were taller than me (I was at least as tall as the tallest girls there). point is, I did not have this problem in the preceding years, this was a new problem. sure, I could dance with and touch other guys, and none of them ever complained oddly enough, but I preferred girls, and it was the one place and time I could be around them and not be judged. I had no idea things were going to get worse.
anyway, with a 50/50 chance of not even being able to dance next to a girl without getting cursed out or scowled at, I cooled on raves almost instantly. went back to my normal boring life, realized just how unpleasant that was, tried to go back to raves again for a week, quit, friends invited me to drug dens to do e where I could watch heroin junkies sleep, gave up on that, moved out of my mom’s, started working to improve my life, so on and so forth.
it’s funny, the last month I spent at raves I felt more alone than I ever had in my life, surrounded by people who were trying their best to ignore me. I felt like I was being *actively* ignored, so I did something a bit silly.
I started having little stickers and cards printed out to say what I felt no one was hearing. first few were very simple and actually got some traction, “love not hate” and little phrases like that on card stock scattered around the edges of the buildings, stickers stuck in bathrooms either in or near where a rave was held. I wanted people to know what I thought, to see the change I saw in the scene. I started seeing some of these girls who would sneer at my appearance wearing the “love not hate” stickers on their clothing. that was a real sea change for me. the next set of cards I printed said “feminists ruined raves.” started hearing females barking in anger about the doubtlessly evil misogynist woman hating loser leaving this trash everywhere and they were gonna get their friends together to burn every card they could find in a firepit later. saw something like 100 people around a bonfire that night just outside the building, a pack of them chanting “love not hate.” the irony was like a knife in the gut. yeah, I caused that and yea I did feel hate so I was exactly the enemy I invented to fight, but these people were still just fighting hate with bigger hate, and because it was the hate of an army against the hate of one injured person it was acceptable.
years go by, I look back on the early days with profound fondness. the days when I was free to feel ecstasy with another person and not fear pain. the memory just got more distant and nostalgic. I still love the music, but I don’t take e because it’s just not the same. I spend time on social media of all kinds to fill the gap of human contact I lost.
then I get to tumblr and see this:
I have a chuckle because I know exactly what this is about. this girl wouldn’t spit on you if your teeth were on fire. the girls I danced with, who I fell in love with 20 minutes at a time 10 times a night for years, they did not dress like this. I loved the classic scene girls, essentially goth metalheads, many wearing loose fitting black shirts and cargo pants, a few wearing tighter or less but otherwise always good looking and modest, willing to make physical contact without judging you. it was a simple beautiful thing, and it was indeed ruined by feminists. what I originally said out of spite I now say with complete honesty and perfect hindsight.
but god forbid you even admit to that. the replies were filled with bloodthirsty females demanding the head of whoever would dare think such a thing. I didn’t dare speak my mind, the man hating psychos had taken over and I was expected to just keep quiet and accept it. couple years later I got banned for a surprisingly different reason (I blocked a big e celeb and they went running to the admins), made another account, and now I just don’t care.
they wanted me to stay quiet because I upset their matriarchy. I just don’t care. two decades ago there was a gentle boy who just wanted to press his fingers to yours and revel in the pleasure of your warmth. that boy is long dead and I wear his skin. don’t blame me for that, I didn’t do this. my greatest sin is self respect.
