Out Alone: Sober, So Technically Exercise

A Thursday night at Paragon.

Thursday, May 28 2026
Location: Paragon
DJs: Nataliepops b2b Martine, Simisola, Mui Mui

I spent an hour picking my outfit, even though 90% of the time I realize I was dressing myself for the wrong reasons. I’m still learning a bit about self-expression, which is why the dance floor is so helpful. I wear purple eyeshadow and concealer — no foundation, but a little blush. I blend it in well so I don’t look like a clown. It’s going to be dark in there anyway. It’s always dark.

I spend thirty minutes recording TikToks. Clairo’s sensual slow-mo videos are deeply inspiring to me, and since I’m just getting off my period, I feel sexy again. I record two videos, delete one, and post the other from my drafts.

When I leave the apartment I pass by the Chinese restaurant on the corner. A man does a double take and cranes his neck out to wish me a good night, to get my attention. I don’t look at him — in fact I turn my face the other way.

I take a Citi Bike down Myrtle then turn onto Broadway. It’s a little too stimulating for me, so I walk the blocks with the bike until I can park it, right in front of Ornithology, where I haven’t been in a long time because it’s filled with artsy students who dress poorly and pretend it’s a reflection of taste.

I’m greeted by the bouncer, just like every time, and his locs smell wonderful — like coconut and rose. At the front of the club I run into a new friend I made last week: a writer and a DJ with the sweetest smile, tall, Jamaican. She thanks me for coming and says she wished she got my number, but alas, serendipity — when I decided to come tonight I realized she was playing. She tells me her set is at 2 in the morning and I know I’ll miss it. One of the other organizers catches her attention so I slip away.

Downstairs the dance floor is empty. A group of four friends, two DJs, a couple sitting at the bar by the water fountain. I love coming early so I can watch the dance floor transform. In that way I have the same hunger as a DJ, except I orchestrate nothing — I only witness.

I remember how my friend hates fog machines, but we’d just been here a month or so ago and had a blast. The DJs play R&B mixed with hyperpop. “I’m So Into You,” sped up a bit. I’m sober, so technically this is exercise. One of the DJs takes a step back from the decks and watches me, arm outstretched, a tuft of hair peeking out from under their pit. They’re nodding to the music and I pretend they’re looking at me. More friends join, the dance floor turns chatty, but the bass is loud enough.

The music shifts: bouncy bass. My knees bend and my arms and fingers go from wavy to sharp — right angles in my joints. After taking a short break to sit in a booth and write on my phone, I go back to the dance floor. I move my body alongside my new friend and some of their friends. I think about how only a few months ago I was dating someone, which meant I had someone to grind with consistently on the dance floor and share my killer moves with. Now I’m all solo.

The limited light — lent only in shades of green, yellow, and purple — plays a trick on my eyes. I keep seeing people I know in other people. For some reason I believe the illusion. I believe one of the DJs is a friend I don’t talk to anymore, and that my friend is cheating on her partner with a woman, and I’m watching them dance with each other right now.

Suddenly the dance floor empties and it’s just me and my new friend. She tells me she’s so thankful I came to the fundraiser. I tell her I was looking for a set to go to this weekend and this came up. I ask her what she does for work and she tells me she’s a student, in school for eight years — some mix of a master’s and PhD program. She has two years left, but she’s taking a break this fall. I tell her I’m happy for her and that slowing down is so important. She looks really young, or maybe it’s just a kindness and purity of heart that makes her seem that way. I ask how old she is and she tells me she’s 31. I’m shocked, but also pleased — she doesn’t seem jaded, and a lot of people are jaded by the time they even hit my age.

I start to get tired and my back starts to hurt. Chronic pain in my left elbow from all the typing, and behind my left shoulder blade too, somehow also from all the typing. My body hurts less when I manipulate it into certain shapes. I allow dancing to help me do that.

At one point I think about leaving, but then “Lollipop” by Lil Wayne comes on and one of the other party-goers moves up near the decks and starts shaking ass. There’s something very visually specific — and also sensorially, tangibly specific — about the phrase lovely lady lumps. It’s true: lumps can be lovely. They’re mostly soft, and sometimes they’re scary, and they’re not supposed to be there. And now I’m joining the stranger, along with another person, and the three of us are just doing our thing alongside each other and I’m smiling at these strangers, realizing that this is exactly why I go out. And while tonight is one of the simpler ones — the priority being fundraising and not losing oneself — I am able to have these pockets of moments where I have a grand appreciation of life, and the freedom I experience when I take myself out and move on the dance floor.

That was the last track of the set. Now there’s a new DJ. She starts playing more bass-heavy techno and I am moving with a lot of excitement because I know I’ll be leaving soon and my only job now is to savor the minutes I have left.

I leave after three tracks. I say goodbye to my new friend and return to the Citi Bike dock where I had left a bike earlier. I ride down my street and feel blessed when I find open parking spots at the dock closest to my home. That almost never happens, and it truly is a big moment for me — because inconvenience is more certain than comfort. Comfort is actually a gift and a privilege, even if we’ve all found a way to manufacture it in almost every moment. When I come home I’m excited to wash my face, and I do. I drink water. I need a snack, and soon I’m lying in my bed in only my underwear and a t-shirt, feeling my lovely lady lumps press against the bed, thinking about how I have two more sets to go to this weekend and how I’ll write about those as well.