Hitting on people is not the same anymore without open bar events

"Drinks tonight?" 

In the pre-COVID life, we ​​couldn't receive a better message to cope with the last hour and a half in the office. It was not only the mirage of a nice fresh (and free) beer with friends to cheer the last moments between mails and presentations, but the certainty that the person who proposed the aforementioned appointment had spent at least 5 minutes in the FB events section, practically the last reason we still keep Facebook, along with notifications that remind us of birthdays. That message meant that after a careful selection your partner in crime had found the event - strictly free, possibly open bar - most suitable for the evening. And even if you often accepted without exactly knowing what to expect, the location and the type of gathering already revealed a lot about the type of people you were going to meet, and therefore, the actual chance to get laid. 

Each event, and each area of ​​Milan, corresponds to its most representative tribe, a collection of individuals, each archetypal of the social group they belong to, characterized by unmistakable elements, each with its own dress code, with its specific and identifying aesthetic. There is the hipster with the inseparable canvas tote bag, carabiner with keys and second-hand bike, at ease between BASE, Picchio and the presentation of the latest independent magazine in Milan, better if in Lambrate, who gives its best at Sunnei parties. Often it goes with the artist with the printed shirts and trench coat when it's colder, who made the nest at Bar Basso. Spread between Corso Como, Moscova and Piazza Affari you can run into the future leaders of finance - almost always synonymous with preppy kids - squeezed in tight-fitting blue suits and shiny shoes, which for the most part talk about how to make (more) money. Unmissable at the events of Spazio Maiocchi, Slam Jam and all the store parties you can see bunches of sneakerheads moving around in small groups, always wearing such a look that they look like they've just come out of a Fashion Week street style reportage, very careful that nobody steps on their sleek sneakers, and with serious issues when it comes to normal interaction with other people. After a beer in Colonne, you can also come across the scruffy skater with super-wide jeans arriving at the most luxurious events, always with his deck, that he carries around to make it clear that he knows how to skate, in case it wasn't clear enough. Cattolica female students sip white wine in flower gardens, with a very tight tail, Tiffany bracelets and Alexander McQueen sneakers, while CrossFit fanatics - who discovered the turtleneck just because it highlights their muscles better - are looking for a drink with fewer calories. 

We have never cared much about the events our friends used to drag us, whether they were art, fashion, design, or music fanatics, or sometimes we were that friend, mainly looking for a wingman. How many conceptual sofas and lamps did we look at during the Fuori Salone just for the promise of a free drink afterwards? Nothing connects more perfect strangers than the search for the coveted waiter with the tray of beers. Those beers have always tasted like shit, even for our refined palates grown with Bacardi Breezers and Corona beers, but without them, it was impossible for us to really enjoy ourselves. 

It was us, the creature of habits who could not live without this type of events, usually followed by a dinner at a Chinese all you can eat restaurant to prevent coming back home at 10 pm completely drunk, the first to realize, in the hardest weeks of lockdown, that the drinks on FaceTime could never have replaced the real ones. We tried to reinvent ourselves, we experimented with fire reactions on Instagram and with catchy songs sent via chat, but deep down we know we're not made for this, we know we could do better, we know we would give our best only in the inner courtyard of Spazio Maiocchi. 

With the prospect of a summer without festivals and drinks on the beach, we are only comforted by the thought that what awaits us will be a fiery September, four weeks full of events, parties, after-parties, openings, gatherings, festivals, all that has been cancelled since March and that needs to be rescheduled. Aware of returning to activity after months of abstinence, both in terms of alcohol intake and in terms of yardstick in choosing a partner, we are ready to return to action, armed with condoms and bottle openers.