Each Saturday night in New York City, wasted before arriving, five of us, mid-twenties, would cluster behind the plum velvet rope. Shivering in winter or sweating in summer, our cigarette smoke stirring heat, we’d chug at a bottle of schnapps. Will he be there? Will he be there? Sometimes “he” was someone specific, some dude we’d ground the week before. More often, “he” was a feeling. Within minutes, gloss, straps, and glitter coalesced to this: embracing a stranger in a salt-skin groove. However long a song, the beat concurred, "You were born to party"; it promised, "You could be loved."
Jennifer Alessi's essays have appeared in Hippocampus, Passages North, River Teeth, and elsewhere. After decades of city living, she has returned to rural life. “For a Decade” is the Editor’s Pick for our GLITZ contest, part of our 2026 Micromemoir Marathon.