JANA HOCKING: What cocaine has done to the men of my generation is a tragedy. Humiliation in the bedroom, pity from their friends. Then days ago, a terrifying confession...
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Not so long ago, I found myself at a party filled with ageing Sydney personalities. And by ageing, I mean forties and fifties. So, no, not ancient - I turned 40 myself in August - but definitely seasoned enough to have earned their reputations as key players in Bondi's party scene back in the 2010s.
![[By her own admission, Jana was no angel. But she says it's time for the 'Peter Pans of Sydney' - the men who are still partying well into their forties - to give up the bad habits. There is no suggestion the other woman in this photograph took illegal drugs]](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2024/12/15/13/93100933-14184631-By_her_own_admission_Jana_was_no_angel_But_she_says_it_s_time_fo-a-12_1734267841699.jpg)
As I surveyed the room, I noticed the women's faces were tight and shiny (the Botox gleam is hard to miss - mine included!) while the men looked like they'd aged a decade overnight. This wasn't a 'George Clooney glow-up' kind of ageing; it was more 'Charlie Sheen at the end of a bender.' It was a stark reminder of how years of partying and substance abuse can take a toll on even the most glamorous individuals.
![[Jana says some men she's known for decades are still partying like they're in their twenties - and it's leading to embarrassing failures in the bedroom, not to mention heart problems]](https://i.dailymail.co.uk/1s/2024/12/15/13/93099201-14184631-Jana_says_some_men_she_s_known_for_decades_are_still_partying_li-a-14_1734267841916.jpg)
Nevertheless, it was a glorious afternoon of wine and untouched finger food (thank you, Ozempic). It was a jolly good catch-up - until the biggest party animal in the room uttered a single, very familiar word: 'Bags?'. (A quick explainer for you Brits and Americans: we Aussies call coke 'bags' because even a one-syllable word needs a nickname here...).
Don't get me wrong, I'm no angel, but my first thought was, 'This is a classy lunch. Haven't we outgrown this?' Apparently not. Within the hour, a dodgy-looking bloke arrived with a 'delivery'. Soon after, half the party was chewing off their faces. This might have been cute in their twenties or early thirties, but most of us had jobs to get to the next day. Some had children at home. Anyone over 40 knows that wine hangovers are bad enough, let alone the depressing agony of a cocaine comedown.
