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For a brief time my first year in New York, I had a crush on B. B was a promoter: You’d find him at The Ritz, or really any bar that had twinks flocking to it like moths to a lamp. The protégé of another New York City gay club promoter, infamous for his hot pink-rimmed glasses, B did well. That wasn’t what I liked about B—sure, I liked going out to bars, but I...
Last weekend, I went to DragCon. A year ago, I went with my ex-boyfriend AJ. This year, I went alone, donning a lanyard that read PRESS in proud capital letters. Walking down the pink carpet, holding a bag of drag queen merch from BibleGirl’s stand, I couldn’t help but notice how many children there were. Now, when I say children, I don’t mean 18 year olds in booty shorts: I mean ACTUAL children. Like, six...
Saturday night, my boyfriend J convinced me to go out. I’d spent the day with Southern Belle C, helping him put together what was sure to be the murder mystery party of the century. (We bopped around Chelsea for hours, searching for costumes at Housing Works thrift shop, props at Abracadabra and invitations at Paper Presentation.) He told me my character early (Freda, a gypsy), and I’d already purchased my costume (a full silk satin...
The other week, I shared a happy hour bottle of wine with my friend V at Grey Dog Chelsea. After deciding to buy another bottle in anticipation of the 6:30 happy hour cutoff, I gulped down another glass of Grüner. “Do you think J and I moved in together too quickly?” I asked, referring to my boyfriend. We were already roommates when we started dating, but negotiated moving into the biggest room of the apartment...
I got the text on a Friday afternoon: My friend GF’s boyfriend broke up with him. It was the day before his 25th birthday, and the day before his birthday celebration: ice skating at Chelsea Piers. He insisted we go ahead with the plan. I wasn’t sure exactly how to dress for ice skating in August, so I put on a pair of white lace shorts, a t-shirt and my Levi’s denim jacket, making sure...
The other day, I got a message from an old friend wanting to catch up. I hadn’t seen him in a long time: to be honest, I’m not sure we’d ever actually hung out before, other than seeing each other out and about and asking the obligatory, “How are you, What have you been up to, How’s the boyfriend?” All the same, I didn’t find it odd that he wanted to get together, and I...
I was taking the train home when I saw him. After a particularly drunk Drunk Brunch, I waited for the A train at 59th St Columbus Circle. It was hot as fuck: I was sweating through my Andrew Christian jockstrap, wishing I had one of those big dramatic fans. I took one of the last seats available, and someone walked past me. Pale and tall, he had a great ass and silver-dyed hair, like he...
A few weeks ago, I was lucky enough to be invited to a fashion event for Out Magazine. Well, I wasn’t technically invited: I was +1 to E, who I’d describe as the sweetest socialite I know. He’s out every night, making appearances at whichever event sounds the most interesting, with a full face of makeup and scandalous outfits. Even in my Prada sequin top, I couldn’t even begin to compare to him. The open...
The other night, my boyfriend J had dinner with some old classmates, including H. H and J dated briefly while I was dating someone else. Even then, H could tell that J was more into me, something that he brought up when J broke things off. Around 9 p.m., after dinner, J texted me that they were all getting drinks, so I asked, “Did you want me to come with?” By the time he answered...
Holding a copy of this magazine, my boyfriend J’s eyes lit up as he began to read “Kiss Me,” a romantic telling of the night we first kissed. We were having a frozen rosé, coined “Brosé,” at REBAR on a Tuesday night, sitting in a booth and watching a buff 20-something in a jockstrap pose for a dozen or so aspiring sketchers. I was taken by how seriously everyone took themselves. Finishing, his face fell....