Hungover, it’s the day after Pride. I am sitting at my desk at work drinking a Tropical flavored Red Bull, listening to house music, and wishing that I was still partying in the streets, in the sunshine, shirtless, losing my mind, with gays surrounding me, filling the streets, everywhere, us.
The weather was beautiful. I was with great friends. I drank a lot of nutcrackers on the street and had so, so much fun. After the parade, I ended up at the Standard and watched the fireworks over the Hudson River from the rooftop at Le Bain, before going to the Grindr party at Boom Boom Room. The doorman told me I wasn’t dressed appropriately since they don’t allow tank tops up there. And after joking about how it’s a slutty Grindr party, he said I just need to not wear the tank top. So I danced around shirtless in the posh Boom Boom Room all night, overlooking the city, most of the surrounding skyscrapers all done up in rainbow lighting. I made out with several people there, danced, at had a fucking ball.
At some point, the drinking nonstop for two days straight caught up with me and it was time to call it a night. I grabbed some pizza, stuffed my drunken face with it, hopped on the L train home, and then cruised Grindr from the comfort of my bed, but was too drunk, tired to do anything. Left a party sponsored by Grindr to go home and cruise on Grindr. That sentence. So gay. This weekend. So gay. I fucking love Pride so much!