A chaotic deep dive into the glittery, caffeinated ecosystem of gay men under 25 who think they invented abs.

Oops! All Twinks

A chaotic deep dive into the glittery, caffeinated ecosystem of gay men under 25 who think they invented abs.

Welcome to the twink apocalypse, honey — population: everyone who still thinks crop tops count as winter wear. “Oops! All Twinks” isn’t a warning, it’s a prophecy. Every brunch, every pool party, every group chat has slowly transformed into an echo chamber of identical little gay cherubs who all look like they got lost leaving a Calvin Klein ad.

Let’s set the scene: you walk into a bar expecting diversity — a few bears, some daddies, maybe a chaotic bisexual in plaid. But no. It’s a wall-to-wall mirror maze of smooth-chested youths all screaming the lyrics to “Padam Padam” like it’s the national anthem. Every one of them has the same haircut, the same phone case, and the same overdeveloped sense of self as an influencer with 2,000 followers.

It’s not their fault, though! Twinks are nature’s way of saying “let’s have some fun before back pain sets in.” They’re born of iced coffee, Ariana Grande, and poor impulse control. They are both the glitter and the chaos in gay culture’s bloodstream. Their natural habitat? A dark bar with bad lighting and a bathroom selfie mirror that could tell stories darker than a Lana Del Rey lyric.

But the twink is also fragile — a creature of mood swings and mascara. One wrong comment on their Instagram and they spiral faster than Britney’s 2007 haircut. They live for validation, for compliments on their jawlines, and for being called “skinny” by literally anyone, including the Pope. Their diet? Pure vengeance and vodka sodas. Their love language? Saying “slay” instead of “I care about you.”

Still, the gay ecosystem needs twinks. Without them, who would remind us that youth is fleeting and skincare is eternal? Who else would teach us how to pose in a way that hides our second chin? Twinks are the glitter glue that holds queer nightlife together — messy, overconfident, and two Aperol spritzes away from crying about their ex. And we love them for it.

So next time you find yourself surrounded by a flock of twinks, don’t panic. Just smile, nod, and order another drink. Compliment their outfit (they probably spent three hours on it), and remember: someday, you too were a twink — or at least twink-adjacent. The twink may evolve, but the sparkle never dies. Oops! All Twinks… and thank God for that.

SOURCE: Oops! All Twinks (Beth Newell)