All I know is that I’m loving how present everyone is, so, so much. Maybe this long stretch of forced isolation has made us realize how empty the digital life actually is ? Maybe we’re all just tired of texting and ready to flirt in the heat of the moment? Maybe we’re sick of swiping and ready to feel the exciting sparks of in-person chemistry again? What do I know? I went to makeup school. But I noticed something beautiful this week in my hard-partying tenure: People are talking to each other again. Pre-pandemic parties were packed with girls staring, dead-eyed into their phones, mindlessly scrolling, swiping, stalking their exes, their exes exes, their exes exes’ new love interests. While the unofficial lesbian party tour bore four unique stops, they shared one common theme: Connection. We practically had two years of beauty rest under our belts! All those Friday nights napping on the couch made up for a lifetime of post-party fatigue. Workin’ girls who collectively committed to slurping down a tremendous amount of water and consuming a tremendous amount of bagels to soak up our (harrowing) hangovers before work the following morning. Oh, honey, I wish ! While I think we’d make excellent full-time party girls with plush bank accounts, we’re all workin’ girls. Must be nice to NOT work, you spoiled little BRATS. I know what you’re thinking: Trust fund babies. I don’t quite know how we did it - but somehow we managed to attend four lesbian/queer parties in a skimpy five days. Just last month my friends and I embarked on the unofficial, self-proclaimed “lesbian party tour.” After being scattered across the country for nearly two years and only seeing each other through the cold static screen of a laptop - we all finally found ourselves back in good ole’ New York, double vaccinated, and ready to sin with the rest of the sinful Sapphics sifting through the City. The unrestrained energy, the beams of electricity, the dancing, the hedonism, the fashion, the unapologetic flaunting of unabashed sexuality - all feel more alive than ever. The nightlife isn’t just back - she’s back and better than ever. We fight with everything we have to keep what we’ve built alive. When hit like a fist to the face with unexpected hardship, we don’t just throw our hands in the air and give up. “I KNOW !” They’d roar back, wide-eyes teeming with fear and dread for the bleak future.īut you know what I love about our culture? Gays are gritty, bro. “ What if all the lesbian bars close down and all the parties come to a screeching halt and we just hang out on horrible, vile, vacant Zoom Doom for the rest of our days!”
“What if this is it?” I’d roar to anyone who would listen.
#Gay sex party nyc serial#
Can you blame a bitch? Depressing article after depressing article was serial posted to social media, each proclaiming that all in-person events would turn digital forever, that Zoom events were “the new normal” and that this is what the younger generation wanted anyway. There was a brief moment in the Pandemic where I feared I’d never set foot in a gay bar or queer party again. Longing.īut most importantly, New York City lesbian nightlife has been my home for over a decade. It’s where I locked eyes with the first f*ck-boi-girl I ever loved. It’s where I met the wild group of girls who became my chosen family. It’s where I salaciously made out with a woman for the first time and thought: holy-shit-this-feels-amazing-oh-wow-I-am-indeed-a-flaming-homo. I’m a lesbian sex and dating writer, who am I kidding?).
#Gay sex party nyc professional#
I’d even say that queer nightlife has served as the backbone of my personal life (and professional life. Do you know what I longed for during the pandemic with the feverish intensity usually reserved for an irresistibly sexy ex you know you’ll never get the chance to have sex with ever again?Ĭall it whatever you want to call it, just don’t call it “non-existent.” Especially in New York City, the glittering concrete abyss that’s held court to the most iconic, insane, fabulous, and ~scandalous~ dyke parties, since the beginning of time.