Absolutely No One Is Fucking In Brooklyn
It is with a heavy heart that I have decided to no longer opt in to telling lies on the internet, and for that I’m sorry. We have used the internet to tell lies to each other for years. We lie about our names; we lie about our heights; we lie about anything we want to because there are no laws. The wonder of the internet is that is allows us to tell each other whatever we want at literally any given time of day. There are some of us, however, who still value truth in this fucked up, beautiful world. And because I have never been quiet about anything in my whole life, I am here to announce a truth I have learned: No one in Brooklyn is having sex.
Okay, calm down. I’m not saying that people in Brooklyn have never had sex. I’m saying that no one who is presently living in Brooklyn is having sex or fucking or making love or any of it. But Fran, you’re thinking, everything I have ever read or listened to or watched has suggested that people in Brooklyn are having sex and boy, are they stressed about it. This is a lie. This is a product of art and nothing else.
When you think about it, it makes perfect sense. Because no one in Brooklyn is having sex, everyone is engaging in the idea of it. It’s mythical. It’s interesting. We as humans love to talk about things we know to be fake: the moon landing, the Libertarian party, the Hamilton lottery. It’s second nature. It’s okay. We take comfort in falsehoods all the time.
I want to be clear that by exposing this truth, I do not think I am better than people who believe there’s fucking that takes place in Brooklyn. I was like you! I bought into it completely and 100%. You see, I am from Chicago, where I believe everything I’m told about the way New York is. For what it’s worth, here in Chicago, people fuck all the time. Chicago is very cold and our food portions are enormous and the people are kind, so naturally, sex is abundant.
I didn’t visit Brooklyn until I was 24 but I believed wholeheartedly that I would go and I would use words like “bodega” and “Prospect Park” and that I would fuck someone. At the time, I had anticipated having sex with a Brooklyn-based improviser who I had once had sex with in Chicago (see above). The idea of having sex in New York––and not just New York, but Brooklyn––was thrilling to me. This was the pinnacle of art. It was the Thing To Do.
It was not until I got to Brooklyn that I reached out to my sex pal. “Hey, let’s have sex while I am in Brooklyn,” I texted him (paraphrased).
“Sorry,” he said, “I moved to LA last week.”
LA! Los Angeles! The city of angels and dining al fresco and sex. People in Los Angeles are definitely have sex. Their arms are toned and they go hiking. I spent the rest of my time in Brooklyn eating egg salad and looking at garbage on the street. It was a happy time in my life, but it was also sexless. Subsequent visits to New York also yielded zero sexual intercourse for a variety reasons like “no one wanted to” or “not attracted to anyone” or “I was in a relationship.”
And that’s the whole thing. If I can’t fuck in Brooklyn, I have to believe that no one is. It shouldn’t be that hard. We shouldn’t have to work to try to get something simply that unattainable. When I let the truth of Brooklyn’s sexlessness wash over me, I felt better. This is why Brooklyn is the way it is. That’s why the people are stressed and creative and tired and wear black. They are sad to not fuck. I know this now.
There’s no bitterness between me and Brooklyn. It’s a flaw, sure, but it’s one I can handle. I just don’t want others to be misled. If you see something, say something. If you don’t fuck, tell other people it’s impossible to fuck. I’d rather know than not know, you know? Clarity provides closure. In the meantime, I know there are plenty of other cities and neighborhoods of cities to go to for sex. Brooklyn will just never be one of them.
Illustration by Ashley Lukashevsky.