A few months ago I was on a date with somebody who started telling me about all the drugs they'd tried. I noticed myself physically leaning forward.

Not because I wanted any. Because hell no I absolutely did not. My health anxiety is so bad that I'd probably convince myself I was dying before anything even happened. Anything going up my nose immediately makes me uncomfortable. Yet the more they spoke, the more interested I became. I wanted details. I wanted stories. I wanted to know what it felt like.

What does cocaine actually feel like? What does ecstasy feel like? What does it feel like when people say they suddenly love everybody in the room? The conversation ended months ago but I still think about it.

I've realised this is a pattern with me. A while ago I was in the IDEA shop in London (go there it's so cool!) and found a book about cocaine culture. I stood there flipping through the pages like I was gathering inspiration. It's the same reason I've spent months trying to hunt down the December 1994 issue of Mixmag. The cover asks a simple question: Ecstasy. What does it do? Honestly? I wanted to know too. So badly. I think I've always been fascinated by excess. Not participating in it. Observing it. Understanding it. The psychology behind it. It's the same reason I love certain types of music. There's something so fascinating about the way some male artists use their ego. Not in real life. In music. The confidence becomes a something I can live through. They're richer than everybody. More attractive than everybody. More reckless than everybody. Men are taking drugs, stealing someone's girlfriend, buying watches that cost more than my yearly income and somehow making it sound artistic instead of corny.

I think that's why House of Balloons fascinates me so much. The entire project feels like it's specifically designed to make bad decisions sound beautiful. Every song feels drenched in temptation. The women, the drugs, the emptiness disguised as freedom. Then there's What You Need. The line "She's what you want, I'm what you need" gets me every single time. It's the way The Weeknd is so sure of himself. The Weeknd isn't selling morality. He's selling certainty. The same thing happens when I listen to Lancey Foux's On Ur Mind. Or Daniel Caesar's Homiesexual. The confidence in those songs are ridiculous. He's completely convinced he can pull a girl away from whatever situation she's currently in. Completely convinced he's the better option.

And for three minutes, I kind of believe him too.

I'm on their side and it feels so wrong. I think that's the appeal.

During my train of thought, this led me back to Eve.

Which is not where I expected a playlist full of men with inflated egos to take me.

The way people talk about Eve has always interested me because she's remembered almost entirely through the lens of failure. The woman who couldn't resist temptation. The woman who ate the apple. But whenever I think about the story, I don't think about the punishment. I think about the curiosity. If somebody put the entire knowledge of the universe in front of me and told me not to touch it, I'd want to know too. The apple feels less like sin and more like awareness.

Maybe that's why Albums like House of Balloons are still popular today. People want to know. What does that feel like? What am I missing? What happens if I do this? Music lets you experience those questions without actually answering them. For three or four minutes you get to sit inside somebody else's worldview. You get to be The Weeknd at the party, existing inside the fantasy without inheriting the consequences.

Then the song ends. The party disappears. The immorality dissolves.

And you're back in your bedroom. Apple still in hand. Wondering what it would've tasted like.