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One evening, after the most excruciating, hungover, eight-hour shift of my life (never drink margaritas when you have to serve tables at 9 in the morning), I finally got home and collapsed into bed, phone in hand. Still feeling every bone in my body ache, I opened up Instagram and started scrolling. Someone uploaded a picture of a townhouse in Brooklyn. Who the hell do I know who can afford a townhouse in Brooklyn? I...
“Sex in the City” has nothing on Ian-Michael Bergeron, Get Out! magazine’s own weekly, salaciously candid columnist. Each week we get to live vicariously through Ian-Michael’s real-life adventures—all true, all specific and all interesting, to say the least. I was fortunate to be able to delve into his life for a minute and discover, as well as uncover, the inspirations of his fabulous writing ability and his sexual escapades at the same time—which, by the...
I got in early, maybe 6 or 7 a.m., the taste of stale tequila still on my breath, a sequined top reflecting the morning light. Another one-night stand. Another boy I would not see again—a boy I can’t remember today. I took off all of my clothes to shower, waiting to get in until the water ran hot. Using cheap Duane Reade-brand conditioner through my tangled hair, I thought, as I sometimes do, of The Ex...
I am not a sex party kind of person. The idea of being in a room full of naked dudes porking each other kind of makes me anxious. (Sure, maybe I’ve masturbated to orgy porn before, but that’s as far as I go.) So how did I end up at a sex party? Well, if you can’t get yourself to go to a sex party, bring the sex party to you. My last roommate was a...
Around six months into Southern Belle C’s relationship, he and his boyfriend decided that they would set me up with someone. “I don’t like setups,” I objected, “and I don’t trust you.” Flashbacks of when C and I dated (disastrous, and now ancient history) flooded my memory. “No,” his boyfriend assured me, “he’s really cute, and Irish. You’ll like him.” “Show me a picture.” So they did. Irish Boy was handsome. Like, I’m-a-professional-actor/hearththrob handsome. Even...
I met my friend MJ last week at Bathtub Gin on 9th Avenue (after trying to get in through Hot Sichuan next door, which did not have a bathtub OR gin). After ordering a Blonde Ambition (do blonde drinks have more fun?), I asked MJ how his boyfriend was doing. MJ’s boyfriend booked a movie last year, set to premiere this month, with several notable stars backing up his first lead role. MJ smiled behind his...
He stood right next to me on the 59th Street subway platform, waiting for the A Express. I kept stealing glances at him sideways, getting glimpses of his sandy blonde hair, his strong, defined chin, his broad chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I could swear he was peeking at me too. Such is the way of the Subway Romance. We steal looks at a cute boy, the cute boy steals looks at...
I am opinionated Some people call me “passionate” and find it attractive, whether or not they agree with me. Anyone who knows me will tell you I love a good argument, even about something like… potatoes. (Best mashed, and though good every other way, if you do not think they are best mashed you are wrong.) Other people think this is a flaw. Can’t he just listen to someone talk about how fries are the...
One hot summer day, right before a cool breeze brought fall to New York City, a random guy added me on Facebook. I stalked his wall, scrolling through his pictures. He was very cute, tattooed head to toe, and a musician. He toured with several bands I had heard of, which I found pretty exciting. He was also a playboy. There was just something about him, maybe a look in his eyes, maybe that most...
