Partying felt less loaded than sex or friendship or family and it surprised me how people never seemed to mind as you went from knowing them to adoring them and then unknowing them, all within a six-to-eight-hour span. With ecstasy there is no serotonergic choice but for everyone to love everyone and then stop. It silenced social math. It’s only when those dials in my head go dark that I can have a good time.

I adored Hairpin pal Mary H. K. Choi’s thrilling, honest, funny portrayal of her relationship with ecstasy on Matter. I don’t do drugs, what no of course not, but if I DID do drugs I’d probably do something like cry about the series finale of 30 Rock two years after it ended, eat half of a lasagna, then vacillate between delight and irritability about my altered state, yelling, “I HATE THIS. I HAVE STUFF TO DO!!!” I promise I am very fun at parties.

But since I am way too type-A to seriously enter the world of drugs (me: what is the etiquette of this particular drug exchange? Should I send a thank you to note my dealer? Am I obligated to share? Can we all track the puffs/injections/snorts we each took and then split it evenly so that no one feels ripped off?) but continue to be endlessly fascinated by it, I remain on its outskirts, occasionally peeking in. This is an excellent glimpse.