I frequently find that when people find out that I work at The Cubby Hole, they ask, “You work at a lesbian bar?”. And yes, The Cubby Hole has a reputation for being a lesbian bar. Those who frequent it, however, know that it is much more.

I’m one of those gay men that defines himself in a multitude of ways. That is to say, my self-identification is multifaceted. I’m a gender queer leather boy urban pocket cub and, even lesbian. But like The Cubby Hole, I am so much more than those labels.

The Cubby was the first gay bar where I was a regular. Why? When I was a fresh 21, my best friends were another gay man and a lesbian. We were all the same age, we spent approximately five nights a week going out and wandering home in the wee hours. Actually, I had no tolerance for alcohol and it was likely 11pm when I stumbled home. Why did we choose The Cubby Hole? It was the bar where the three of us could go and all have a good time. No one was accused of being a fruit fly, no one was worried about invading someone else’s territory. The Cubby Hole was a place where the three of us could go, hang out, drink, and maybe even find a dark corner to make out with someone we’d just met. It quickly became our place. We were not alone. The Cubby Hole is frequented by members of the LGBTQ community of all shapes, sizes, ages, and races. It is the great American melting pot of gay bars. Drag queens, biker chicks, lipstick lesbians, bears, leather daddies, twinks, and artists all come together. And, dare I say, there are even a few straights who find comfort within the four walls and below the decorated ceiling. The bar may be lesbian-owned and may be one of the most comfortable bars in the city for women but you won’t get kicked out for having a penis.

My ever-changing definition of self is much like that of The Cubby Hole. Perhaps that’s what drew me to it. Defining your “type” in the gay world seems to be important to many gay men. But what about us that don’t fit the mold? I choose to wear multiple hats. I’m as comfortable in lime green toenail polish and bellbottoms as I am in skinny jeans and Converse All Stars. I’m as likely to be seen in leather pants and boots as I am in a shirt and tie. I’m not a twink. I’m not a bear. I’m not a club kid. I’m not a leather boy. I’m all of these things. I wear nail polish and argyle socks under my boots and a collar with a lock around my neck under a business suit. I’m not pretending to be someone I’m not, I’m not excluding any part of who I am. I’m embracing all of the facets of my identity.

When I walk into The Cubby Hole, whether I’m going to work or just stopping in for a cocktail, I’m comfortable. I get to be exactly who I am on any given day. The Cubby Hole is that place for many people. It’s a comfortable, friendly, neighborhood bar. It’s what drew me to it several years ago; it’s what made me accept a job when it was offered to me.

And why do I define myself as a lesbian?

Let’s face it. Whether it’s Doc Martens, Danskos, or Birkenstocks, my shoe collection isn’t exactly Chelsea.

So yes, by your definition, I may work at a lesbian bar. By my definition, I work in the friendliest bar in New York City where I can take any of my friends, male or female, gay or straight. And if you’re my friend, you’ve likely come in at some point. Even if you’re my Mom.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the little things that make me happy. I decided to start a list. The idea is not to put forth a list of favorite things so much as it is to come up with a list of things that make me smile or make me happy simply because they exist. 

Jeans

Post-gym showers

Post-work showers

The first squeeze of a new tube of toothpaste

The last squirt of a bottle of shampoo

Frozen beverages (of all types and varieties)

Kisses

Hugs

Cuddling

Friendly customers

Pedicures

Converse All Stars

I guess that’s all I have for now. 

Since I moved to New York I’ve learned a few things about the New York male homosexual population. These are, of course, generalizations. It’s important, however, to take note because these Institutions of Gay, if you will, give you a glimpse of what’s in store each weekend for the male homosexual New Yorker.

Let’s start with the weekend. In the heterosexual work world, the workweek is Monday through Friday with Saturday and Sunday reserved for little league, the farmer’s market, and gardening. In the homosexual world, the workweek remains Monday through Friday (if you’re lucky to have one of those 9-5s I’ve heard so much about) but the weekend is less clearly defined.

We’ll start with Thursday evening. That’s when the gay weekend begins. It’s a good opportunity to meet a friend for dinner. It’s not quite the weekend but you can wear your bootcut jeans to work the next day and maybe even get away with not shaving. Following dinner, many a homosexual man goes out for drinks. In fact, they may skip dinner all together and go right from happy hour into the evening without passing Go. If you’re lucky, you make it home by two or three AM and catch about five hours of sleep before dragging your scruffy (put always presentable) self to work.

Fridays come and go. They’re the last day of the workweek, a day when the homosexual is rarely productive. Summer Fridays mean leaving early for Fire Island, the Hamptons, or Rehoboth. They’re dress-down days for many. Friday evenings are no more exciting. Beyond dinner there is little nightlife for the Gay New Yorker.  He chooses to see a movie with friends, attend a birthday party, or simply curl up on the couch and catch up on ye old DVR.

Saturdays are errand days. You may be of the homosexual or heterosexual persuasion but this is standard. The Downtown and Brooklyn Gay goes to Union Square for produce for the week. Between sips of iced coffee they hope to see Mario Batali, the chef who defines the term “Ginger Bear” or catch a glimpse of Bethenny Frenkel, who is inevitably more concerned with her Blackberry than her baby bump. There may be reason to visit a museum, lounge in Central Park, or go to some A-list Gay Event in seersucker and linen. If not, an afternoon wander through the West Village or Park Slope is always apropos. Saturday evenings are much like Friday. The Gay goes to a dinner party, they stop by a karaoke club to wish a friend Happy Birthday, they go to an Off-Off Broadway show. Saturday is not the night to go out in New York if you’re a New York Gay. Saturdays are better spent with friends.

Sunday is a holy day for everyone. Particularly for the New York Gay. He who does not appreciate Sunday’s holiness must be taught. Sundays, my friend, are for Brunch. Yes, that’s Brunch with a capital B. Brunch is an institution on its own. For some, the term Boozy Brunch is the best way to describe the afternoon’s activities. For others, the term Brunch implies that one can even order eggs with their Mimosas and Bloodies. Sunday early afternoon (or late afternoon for the Gay who foolishly went out the night before) brings large sunglasses and the chitchat. It is, perhaps, the social event of the week. After Brunch the Gay chooses his next option. Some Gays will choose to be productive and go to a museum, a show, or the tanning salon. Others will know in their heart of hearts that nothing else productive is happening and will continue the day of leisure by hitting up Beer Blast at a local gay bar. There are plenty of options and bar crawls are recommended for such afternoons of leisure. If you do choose the Beer Blast option you’ll likely meet up with your “Productive” counterparts at The Eagle where the sun will set on Chelsea indicating that it’s almost Monday. That being said, the madness at The Eagle will continue well into the evening and there may be need for those sunglasses for the morning commute to the office the following morning.

But whatever the Gay chooses to do with his weekend, he does it in style and never forgets his lip balm. You never know whom you’ll meet. 

As some of you know, I’m a big fan of spending evenings out in the City. It’s not about the alcohol; it’s not about the cruising (okay sometimes it’s about the alcohol and the cruising). It’s about finding the gems of the City. Below I list my favorite five bars in no particular order.

Ready? Go. 

1. The Cubby Hole

Anyone who knows me knows that I’ve been working at The Cubby Hole for a little over a year now. I’m often asked why I work at a lesbian bar. Here’s my response. The Cubby Hole is a bar frequented by lesbians. And gay men. And straight men. And straight women. And trans folk. Sure, the bar is considered a lesbian bar by many of its regulars but take a look around on most nights and lesbians only make up part of the population. That’s why I love The Cubby Hole. That’s why I became a regular a couple of years ago and continue to go in even when I’m not working. It’s the only bar in the city where you can go in alone, sit at the bar for a drink, and leave with a new friend. It’s not a meat market (though those bars have their place as well) but, rather, a comfortable place for anyone to be themselves. You can wear your jeans or a three-piece suit. You can be 21 or 51. Regardless of who you are, The Cubby Hole is a comfortable, safe, and fun place to be.

2. The Stonewall Inn

Beyond the historical significance of The Stonewall Inn with the Stonewall Riots in 1969, The Stonewall is an institution. Sure, it may have changed owners a few times in the last ten years but it’s one of the friendlier places to be in the Village. They host a variety of events each week and are able to cater to multiple crowds because of their two levels and two bars. Upstairs tends to be a younger crowd, downstairs is decidedly more like Cheers. Stonewall is host to many of the New York Boys of Leather (NYBoL) parties as well as throwing parties for other groups. The bartenders are some of the cutest and friendliest in the city and it’s definitely a place to drop in after work.

3. The Eagle

Read: This is not the bar to take your girlfriends to when they visit from out of town and want a night out with the gays. What can be said about The Eagle? Those who are familiar with it’s three levels know that The Eagle is NYC’s only leather and biker bar. It’s located in Upper Chelsea almost on the West Side Highway in a block that’s also populated by the popular gentleman’s club Scores and a variety of industrial-style high-rises. First, what the Eagle isn’t: a dance club, a sports bar, a lounge, a drag bar. The Eagle’s clientele is largely those interested in leather and fetish gear. They range from daddies to boys, bears to otters, skinheads to chubs. It’s the only bar in Chelsea where you can be a bear or a muscle daddy or a skinhead and be comfortable. Everywhere you look are men of all shapes and sizes, tattoos of every variety, and piercings galore. In keeping with the nature of the kinky and alternative, the bar doesn’t open until 10pm Tuesday through Saturday and doesn’t get busy until much later. Sundays the bar opens at 5pm for Beer Blast. On Thursdays, The Eagle hosts Code, the only regular leather and fetish night in the city. To enter the closed off area on the second floor you must be clad in leather, rubber, or uniform. Head to the roof and you’ll see leather daddies puffing on cigars. When it gets late enough, check in dark corners and the bathrooms for boys getting naughty. Again, The Eagle is not your campy musical theatre bar.

4. Ty’s

If The Cubby Hole had an all male counterpart, this would be it. Ty’s is a neighborhood bar on Christopher Street in the Village. Ty’s customers stop in after work for a beer, on their way home after dinner, or on a weekend afternoon. Sure, they play Project Runway on the TVs above the bars but, like the Eagle, it’s not a place to take kooky Aunt Suzie. The customers are similar to those at The Eagle, though not clad in leather and rubber. At Ty’s they wear their Levis and t-shirts. Ty’s feels old fashioned. A sign above the bar reads “No Dancing”. It’s a simple place - brick walls, a bar, two high tables, and two TVs. The bar isn’t any cruisier than any other gay bar in New York and yet its patrons do occasionally meet and leave together. The others don’t judge or look on with disgust, though. They just accept it as one of the things that can happen when you’re at Ty’s.

5. The Duplex

This bar makes my list in springtime and summer. The Duplex is one of the only gay bars in the city with outdoor seating. In the warmer months there are approximately 12 tables on 7^th Avenue at the corner of Christopher Street. These coveted spots are great places to watch the sun go down, people-watch, and enjoy a crisp cocktail before dinner. The crowd is mixed though tends toward the gay boy and girlfriend demographic. Though the inside bars boast cabaret shows, sing-a-longs, and other camp, it is outside on the sidewalk where I like to spend my evenings now that it’s gotten warm.