There is no subset of people who thrive in the fall quite like us lesbians.
One night, I was walking around the West Village. (For those of you who don't live inside the New York City lesbian bubble, the West Village is a gay mecca.)
I'm so used to seeing gays wandering around there, but for whatever reason this evening, the whole neighborhood seemed WAY MORE infested with lesbians than usual.
Groups of lesbians were looking hot in their black leather jackets, oversized sweaters, cable-knit tops with massive hoods, skinny jeans, wax denim pants, doc martins and buckled boots roamed the city streets in swaggy packs.
I walked around with my eyes bulging out of my head, warmth in my heart and feeling particularly one with my people.
The following Sunday, I was in the notoriously heterosexual Financial District of New York. On the weekends, it's full of low-level finance guys drinking beer in button-downs and terrible cargo shorts (important to note: only lesbians and dads can pull off cargo shorts).
But this Sunday, I kid you not, there was some sort of fancily dressed motorcycle convention happening, and at least half the population was hot lesbians wearing bowties, vests, starch-white button-downs and suspenders (the chic kind). I have evidence:
Even the girl I like was in awe. "There are some HOT people hanging out today," she said, her green eyes twinkling. And trust me, babes, she wasn't talking about the boys.
Later that night, when I was tucked into my crush's bed (scandalous, I know), I began to think about all the lesbians I had seen over the weekend. There was something different about them this weekend. They had a specific glow, a specific prowess, a keyed up sexual energy. That's why they were standing out to my jaded lesbian eyes.
The next day at work, during a meeting about "imbedding images," it hit me: Each sexuality has a season.
Gays thrive in the summer (Those abs! Those Fire Island parties!). Straight people thrive in the spring (Pastels! Beer gardens!). Asexuals thrive in the winter (too cold for sex).
And here's why:
1. It's leather weather.
No one rocks leather like a lesbian. We just attain the inherent confidence and badass swag one needs to pull off leather.
Plus, all kinds of lesbians love leather. Biker babes dig motorcycle leather jackets. Rockers slay in leather pants. Stock brokers sport leather satchels full of important documents. Graphic designers walk around in leather backpacks. Girly girls seduce in leather dresses. Go-go dancers kill in leather bras.
And all of us — yes, ALL of us — rock a leather jacket and a leather boot like no basic straight girl could ever dream of rocking. I posted this leather selfie today. I was so excited to wear my new leather jacket.
In fact, you're not even really a lesbian until you own both. And fall is leather season, so we're just hot, sexy women feeling like hot shit in our leather attire the entire season.
We look good, and we know it. We attract everyone, even the straight girls (which I know some of you like).
2. We love to cuff.
We're tired of getting drunk and engaging in meaningless hookups, and we're ready to cuddle up with a full-time bae. This can be a struggle for men, as men tend to love hookup culture, but it's totally natural for lesbians.
Lesbians, whether we want to pretend we're bro-ish players or not, are natural cuffers. I mean, how many times came we get wild in Cherry Grove before enough is enough?
So when it's the season to cozy up, we're in our element. We can stop pretending to enjoy the Tinder life and fall into the arms of a girl.
3. It's football season, baby.
I don't love football, but you know what I do love? Seeing all the lesbians riled up at the lesbian bar over football games.
It's sexy to watch a woman roar over her favorite team. And we all know it's hard to get lesbians together, as we're reclusive by nature. But we will and do come out to le bar for le football games.
Plus, all the lesbians are all riled up from the game, just like you're riled up from watching them watch the game. And that's a whole lot of sexual energy. That needs to be released in the bedroom, baby.
4. Fall activities are so wonderfully GAY.
What is more gay than pumpkin picking? Apple picking, honey.
And what do you do in the fall? Travel to orchards and pick apples and pumpkins.
Ask a lesbian on a date to go pumpkin picking, and she might sleep with you on the first date (at least I will). Ask a lesbian to go on a date apple picking, and she'll definitely sleep with you on the first date (at least I will).
Plus, lez be honest, girls: We aren't like those prissy straight bitches. We are entirely unafraid to get dirty outside (both literally, and figuratively).
Really? Do I need to even say more?
However, I do think it's cute when I see pictures on Instagram of all the straight sorority girls looking all displaced in their flannel shirts.
And then I'll scroll to a lesbian friend and she's rocking that flannel in a way no hetero can. It's in our genetic makeup to look good in flannel. And the better we look, the better we feel, and the more we pull, babes!
And then I moved to ~Hollywood~, honey. And I learned alllll about how the gays do halloween.
Gay bars have the best parties in the world, but our Halloween parties are on a whole other level. Drag queens, glitter, sparkle, gender bender GALORE. When you've been repressed your entire life, you just don't hold back on Halloween.
The gays turn out for Halloween. And your chances of meeting someone IRL are better than any other time of year, even Pride (Pride is too saturated with out-of-towners). Plus, doesn't everyone look better in costume, anyway?
7. The election.
Look, our political situation is depressing as hell. I don't even want to get into it.
However, we're all standing #WithHer (unless you're a lesbian Republican, in which case, don't even get me started), and we're all united in making this world a more tolerant, accepting place.
We're at the bar talking politics, and every dyke in the room has an opinion and is amped up about hot-button social issues. It's really just some awesome lesbian energy. Trump is the ultimate conversation starter.
And you know the brain is the woman's largest sexual organ, right? Stimulate my brain by ranting against Tyrant Trump, and I'll have sex with you RIGHT THERE in the back of the bar at the Cubbyhole (and I'm a germaphobe, so that says a lot).
So girls, put on your flannel shirt, throw on a leather jacket, put on the lesbian beanie and get out on the prowl.
Look! Even Kristen Stewart smiles in the fall!