They’re always there to feed us an ornate cocktail when our mouths (and souls) are as dry as the Sahara Desert. The bartenders of gay nightlife are the backbone of our community. I could write poetry about the bartenders who choose to invest their swag and skills into the gay bars. But that’s not all: There are some specific things I miss so deeply I could cry. I’ve felt a sense of belonging that I never felt in jobs, in homerooms, in my hometowns. I’ve fallen out of love - with myself and with others. I’ve kissed the right person at the wrong time. I’ve kissed the wrong person at the right time.
I’ve marveled at the skills of the beautifully bedazzled go-go dancers. I’ve ripped my tights and decided they look better that way. I’ve glued fallen eyelashes back onto the ever-still lids of seasoned drag queens. I’ve bronzed up dozens of boys with my giant fluffy Chanel makeup brush. I’ve tossed back too many drinks and stumbled about, bestowing everyone with melodramatic cheek kisses and unsolicited advice like a drunken eccentric aunt. I’ve fought with lovers - publicly - in the gay bar. I’ve cried black mascara tears in the bathrooms of gay bars. I’ve worn my most fabulous outfits inside of the always-stylish four walls of the gay bar - outfits I wouldn’t dare wear out in the general public (gag) because the basic masses would not understand it’s innate fierceness and I don’t like to waste but a modicum of fierceness on a dull, uninspired audience. I’ve cultivated the deepest friendships of my life at the gay bar. I discovered what a gorgeous freak show I am at the gay bar. I first locked eyes with a girl at the gay bar. Gay nightlife has always been the truest home I’ve ever had, because I can be the most myself in her sequin-scaled arms. 5 - there is something that I miss with so much intensity that I actually ache for it: Gay nightlife.
If there is one thing this wildly-unexpected quarantine has affirmed for me, it’s how unbelievably magical, inspiring, magnetic, and spirited our goddamn town is! The day we’re set free, I’m going to twirl through the city streets like a glittery psychopath six days off of her psychotropic meds!Īnd while I miss walking and breathing in the oh-so-specific smell of the city - hot dogs and trash and pizza and expired bottles of Chanel No.
There is so much I dearly, dearly miss about being out and about in New York City.