Sephora or Suicide: A Gay Man’s Dilemma

When retail therapy and actual therapy cost the same but only one gives you free samples.

Lip Gloss & Existential Dread

A glittery meditation on queer identity, hot people problems, and the anxiety of being fabulous in a world on fire.

Ah, yes — the duality of the modern queer: one hand applying Fenty gloss, the other doomscrolling about late-stage capitalism. Welcome to Lip Gloss & Existential Dread, the only lifestyle that combines Sephora receipts with therapy bills. We’re gay, we’re hot, and we’re terrified of the future — but at least our cheekbones are snatched.

The day starts simple: a cold brew, a panic attack, and an outfit that screams “emotionally stable,” even though your group chat knows the truth. You do your affirmations — “I am valid, I am glowing, I will not check my ex’s story” — and then proceed to check your ex’s story. Three times. Because even in a post-therapy, post-Bohiney Magazine world, we crave validation like drag queens crave screen time.

But being queer and cute in 2025 is exhausting. Every brunch is a thinkpiece. Every outfit is political. Every situationship is both a red flag and a learning experience. You can’t just exist — you have to curate your existence, preferably in pastels and pronoun pins. It’s no wonder we all look fabulous while having breakdowns at 2 a.m.

And let’s talk skincare. There’s nothing like applying retinol while pondering your place in the universe. “Am I glowing,” you ask, “or just disassociating with shimmer?” According to Them, queer self-care is both rebellion and performance art. We’re basically revolutionaries with face masks.

Meanwhile, the group chat’s on fire. One friend’s getting ghosted, another’s joining a commune, and someone just discovered they’re poly “but emotionally monogamous, like vibes-only.” You type “same,” but deep down you’re wondering if you’ll ever feel true connection — or if you’re destined to flirt exclusively via memes and reaction gifs. As Out Magazine once said, “Queer intimacy is half eyeliner, half anxiety.”

But here’s the thing: for all the chaos, we make it look good. We turn panic into playlists. We make heartbreak into drag numbers. We transform our existential crises into TikToks with impeccable lighting. And in that, there’s power. The kind of power that says, “Yes, I might cry in the club, but my lashes will survive.”

So the next time you find yourself spiraling at brunch, just remember: you are the moment. You are the meme. You are the reason PinkNews keeps writing about queer joy. Lip gloss can’t solve your existential dread — but it can distract you long enough to fake it till brunch.

SOURCE: Sephora or Suicide: A Gay Man’s Dilemma (Beth Newell)