Dry January, Still Getting Wet

Rethinking flirting, hookups, and self-connection without alcohol.

For many queer people, alcohol is more than a social lubricant, it’s infrastructure. It shapes how nights begin, how confidence is borrowed, how desire feels easier to access, and how rejection hurts a little less. Bars, dance floors, hookups, and even first dates have long been organized around drinking, often without space to question what it gives and what it takes away. As more queer people experiment with Dry January or sobriety more broadly, new questions surface. 

What happens to flirting, sex, and intimacy without alcohol? What emotions rise when there’s no buffer? And can sobriety feel like expansion rather than loss?

Those questions anchor this conversation with Daniel Morales, a life coach whose work centers on self-acceptance, emotional awareness, and rebuilding confidence within the LGBTQ+ community. Morales is open about his own journey as a bisexual man who spent years struggling to name his desire and seeking validation outside himself. 

Today, Morales coaches clients navigating shame, identity, relationships, and self-worth. In this Q&A, he reflects on alcohol’s role in queer culture, what sobriety reveals emotionally and sexually, and why compassion, not perfection, is key. Rather than framing sobriety as loss, Morales invites us to see it as an opportunity to meet ourselves more honestly.

Q: Alcohol has long been central to queer social and sexual spaces. Why do you think drinking became such a key gateway to connection for queer people?

A: Fear of vulnerability plays a huge role. We’ve all heard alcohol described as a confidence serum. It lowers inhibitions, helps people open up, talk more, and feel more social. For a lot of gay men, alcohol makes it easier to be vulnerable and live in the moment.

That’s often tied to self-esteem issues, trust issues, and experiences with rejection. Alcohol helps people come out of their shell, so it becomes part of the routine of going out. But alcohol can also be addictive. When people start depending on it to access their confident self, it becomes a cycle. Add to that the fact that alcohol is heavily pushed in gay culture. Many of the spaces where gay men gather are very alcohol-forward, so it gets normalized quickly.

Q: Where do you draw the line between social drinking and addiction? What’s the difference between going out on weekends and something that starts to impact your life?

A: I think dependence is the key factor. When it becomes habitual, like drinking every day or incorporating alcohol into your daily routine, that’s when it starts to cross a line. It may begin in nightlife spaces, but once it spills into everyday life and starts infringing on your sense of self, that’s a sign something deeper may be going on.

I’m not a licensed therapist, so I don’t diagnose. But there are pretty clear indicators when it shifts from social drinking to a habitual pattern that’s worth paying attention to.

Q: When alcohol is removed from flirting or hooking up, what tends to surface first emotionally?

A: It really depends on the person. I don’t think it’s fair to generalize and say it’s always fear. Everyone brings their own experiences into these situations.

That said, from my experience working with men, anxiety often comes up first. Social anxiety, feeling very seen, very exposed. Without alcohol, people are more present and aware, so they feel things more intensely. That’s often tied to insecurities and self-esteem issues.

Speaking personally, growing up bisexual, I dealt with bullying and rejection. When I started drinking, it felt like a superpower. I’d loosen up, my personality would come out, and people gravitated toward me. That felt validating. Over time, I started believing I needed alcohol to be seen or desired.

That dynamic brought both good experiences and harmful ones. It even led to me being sexually assaulted. There are two sides to this, and it’s important to acknowledge both.

Q: Many people use alcohol to quiet shame or self-doubt around desire. What happens to those feelings, both when someone sobers up after drinking and when they begin engaging sober?

A: After drinking, shame often gets amplified. We even have phrases like “the walk of shame.” When intoxicated, people are often driven by desire in a very immediate way. When they sober up, they may question their choices or repeat patterns they feel bad about. That compounds shame.

Shame then creates a cycle. Feeling bad leads people to seek validation, often through sex or intimacy, which provides temporary relief but doesn’t resolve the underlying feelings.

When someone engages sober, they’re more conscious of their decisions and the people they choose. 

Interactions often become more meaningful, but also fewer. That shift from quantity to quality can be challenging if someone is still seeking external validation. That’s where deeper self-work becomes important.

Q: What actually improves about sex and intimacy when people are sober?

A: It’s a loaded question because some people will argue alcohol makes sex physically easier, especially in certain situations. But emotionally, sober intimacy allows for deeper presence.

When you’re sober, you’re more in your body. You’re more aware of what you like and don’t like. You’re better able to communicate boundaries and preferences. You may discover sides of yourself sexually that you hadn’t noticed before.

One example is eye contact. Holding eye contact during sex can be incredibly intimate. When you’re sober, that experience can feel much deeper. While substances might reduce physical discomfort, they can also block emotional connection. Sober sex allows for exploration on a deeper level and helps people feel safer and more grounded.

Q: What tends to feel harder without alcohol in queer spaces?

A: Alcohol is deeply ingrained in queer culture, and there’s often peer pressure to participate. Being the sober person in a group can feel isolating. There can even be jokes or teasing about it, which does affect people.

I’m not alcohol-free myself. I’ll have a drink at a drag brunch. The issue isn’t drinking, it’s intention. Being aware of why you’re drinking and what you’re using it for helps prevent crossing that blurry line. Belonging and community are powerful motivators, and it’s important to acknowledge that.

Q: For someone trying Dry January and feeling awkward or exposed, how can sobriety feel like a gain rather than a loss?

A: It starts with curiosity. Having a genuine interest in getting to know yourself. Trying something uncomfortable doesn’t mean you’re committing forever. Dry January doesn’t mean you’ll never drink again.

If something feels challenging, there’s usually a reason. Often, something positive exists on the other side of that challenge. Instead of thinking you’re taking something away, think of it as adding something new that you don’t fully understand yet.

You might feel better physically. You might have more clarity. You might handle emotions differently. Even if you try it and don’t complete the month, that’s not a failure. The win is trying. 

Compassion toward yourself is part of the growth.

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Frank Rojas (he/him)

Contributor – The Group Chat

Frank Rojas is a writer and reporter based in Los Angeles. He covers culture, identity, and community with a focus on queer and Latinx experiences. His work has appeared in The New York Times, LA Times, and more.

At The Group Chat by YH, Frank writes about sex, care, and queer connection—with a particular interest in how people build trust, pleasure, and community on their own terms.

You can find him at: Instagram, LinkedIn, and Substack.