“What if this is it?” I’d roar to anyone who would listen. 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?).
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.
