No Flights, Just Feelings: Pride Thoughts, Pool Parties, and Gay Men's Group

Pride, Pause, and the Soft Work of Becoming

Pride is this weekend in Des Moines, and honestly? I’m not sure if I’ll be out and about. I say this every year. There’s always a little internal tug-of-war—part of me wants to feel connected, visible, celebratory. Another part of me feels distant from what Pride has become. Maybe it’s burnout, maybe it’s age, maybe it’s the realization that the rainbow capitalism and the overly “family-friendly” vibe don’t speak to the parts of myself I want to celebrate.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how Pride has shifted. When I was younger, it felt edgier, grittier, less polished. There was something raw and real about it. Now it often feels like it’s been sanded down—like the edges were too queer, too sexual, too honest. And while I understand the push for “inclusion,” I miss the mess. I miss the unapologetic queer joy and rage and lust and softness. The stuff that wasn’t meant for mass consumption.

Still, I might go see Aly & AJ perform—because nostalgia is a hell of a drug and “Potential Breakup Song” still hits.

The Summer That Almost Was

I had big plans for this summer. Sitges Pride. Twin Cities Pride. A little international gay joy, a little Midwest queer community. But life had other ideas—and bills, as it turns out, don’t care about your desire to dance shirtless in Spain.

After my ER visit last month (it wasn’t a heart attack, just a dramatic case of acid reflux), I’ve had to shift gears financially. Throw in the cost of new tires and suddenly my carefree, rainbow-colored summer plans started looking a lot more...practical. Adulting is a scam.

Still, I’m not entirely grounded. I’ve got a trip planned to Sirenity Farms campground in Missouri, which feels like the right kind of queer escape—low-key, nature-adjacent, and good for the soul. There will also be pool parties around town, and I’m slowly re-learning the art of being content with local fun.

Relearning Community

There’s a conversation happening on TikTok right now about being a “girls’ gay” versus a “gays’ gay.” I’ve always been a gays’ gay. Most of the people I connect with deeply—friends, lovers, collaborators—have been other men, whether they’re femme, masc, cis, trans, or somewhere in between. That’s not a rejection of women or femininity; it’s just where I feel most myself. Sometimes I wonder if that’s internalized misogyny, but I think it’s more about comfort and connection than rejection.

Another bright spot: I joined a gay men’s group. I went to my first event last weekend, and while I was a little hesitant at first, it felt...good. Real. The group meets three times a month, though in June it’s scaled back a bit with all the Pride happenings. Still, it’s something. A different way of connecting that doesn’t involve apps or late-night bars.

Manifesting (Something?)

I’ve been hearing a lot about “manifesting abundance” lately—mostly through astrology podcasts that mention things like Venus in March or Jupiter doing something meaningful in some house. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure how any of it works. But I like the idea of it: that we’re allowed to want more, that we can call in better things by shifting our mindset or just getting clear about what we need.

So maybe this summer isn’t about big Pride trips or sweeping changes. Maybe it’s about smaller things: making space for new friendships, showing up for community in ways that feel good, choosing rest without guilt, and paying attention to what I already have instead of what I thought I needed.

I don’t know if I’m manifesting abundance, exactly. But I am trying to be open. To growth, to joy, to softness, to whatever comes next.