Bite the beaches

“Everyone thinks Fort Lauderdale is paradise…”

Sun. Beaches. Endless summer. A place where you’re supposed to feel free, confident, and surrounded by people who get it.

And then there’s Wilton Manors—the center of it all. The place everyone hears about. The place that, from the outside, looks like the answer.

For years—like a lot of people—I would come here for a few days and think: this is it. This is where everything just works. Where life feels easier, people seem more open, and somehow… better.

And for a while, it does.

But 25 years later, what once felt exciting—almost like a spectacle—starts to feel… normal.

Familiar. Predictable.

I mean, where else can you be out at 7 a.m. and see a seven-foot drag queen, fully done, sitting at a bus stop like it’s just another Tuesday?

The dance floors. The late nights. The constant rotation of personalities and identities—every version of the scene you can imagine, all packed into one place.

And that’s the thing… whatever you’re looking for, you can probably find it here.

The real question is—how long before finding it stops feeling like something special?

When everything is available—all the time—something shifts.

Access becomes expectation.
Attention gets shorter.
And connection? That starts to change too.

When there’s always another option, people become easier to replace—and easier to forget.

Effort drops.
Conversations stay surface-level.
Everything starts to feel… temporary.

And that’s when it hits you—this isn’t just a lifestyle anymore, it’s a cycle.

Always moving. Always looking. Always onto the next thing.

But at some point, you have to ask—where does it actually lead?

Because when everything is available, all the time…
how do you hold onto anything that matters?

With all that said, I’ve had more than a few encounters—and I call them that for a reason.

At the time, each one felt like it could be something real. Like maybe this was the right person.

But more often than not, what starts as excitement slowly fades into something else. Not because it was wrong… but because something new, or different, or just slightly more appealing comes along.

There’s always someone more interesting.
Someone with more to offer.
Someone better looking.

And that’s the reality most people don’t talk about.

But you do learn from it.

If anything, you learn to protect yourself—to keep your guard up. But at the same time, you also have to figure out when it’s worth lowering it, even just a little, and taking a real chance.

Living here isn’t the problem. It’s just a place where everything is amplified.

And if you don’t know what you’re looking for—or you’re not willing to slow down and recognize something real when it’s in front of you—it’s easy to get caught in the cycle.

But if you can find that balance—between protecting yourself and still being open to something genuine—then maybe this place can actually become what you thought it was in the beginning.

Because at some point, your perspective shifts.

You stop chasing everything.
You stop reacting to every distraction.

And you start seeing the city for what it really is

“Not perfect. Not fake. Just what it is.”

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