Let's be honest. Walking into an urgent care and saying, "I'd like to get tested for an STI," can either feel like 1. you're being currently sl*t-shamed on the receptionist group chat, 2. equivalent to saying "I sleep with every person on the island of Manhattan," or 3. feels oddly similar to ordering off a menu you've never seen before. You nod when the nurse starts listing things, smile like you totally understand what's happening, and five minutes later you're left wonderi

First dates. Second dates. And if you're lucky, maybe a third before the London Bridge comes crashing down, the pilot starts yelling "Mayday," and you're left staring at your phone wondering, How did we get here? Things were going so well. Oh, you don't date? Don't think you're exempt. How many hookups do you think you have left before one of them quietly fizzles into another stranger you'll pretend not to recognize on the L train? The older I get, the more I realize New York

Ladies. Gays. And maybe even the straights. It’s time to play one of New York City’s most infamous games. Whether you’re straight, gay, or simply someone who can appreciate a great package when one walks by, there is one unspoken pastime that happens somewhere between the sidewalks of Manhattan, the subway platforms, and the coffee lines of every overpriced café in the city. Bulge watching.