Words by

Charlie Winters

When you arrive the first thing that you notice is that the sun never sets on this queer little island. Walking down the streets there’s rainbows everywhere but you aren’t focused on that because… Dear Lord! Everyone is so fucking hot! Gay panic hits you like the rapidly shifting weather and the one question that echoes in your brain: “How do I get me some of that?”

Hi, I’m Charlie and I’ll be your gay guide to Reykjavik. As a single anxious virginal gay immigrant who went to Christian missionary school (God bless), I am the forefront expert on not getting laid. So, to help you out, I’m going to tell you everything I’ve tried on this little gay volcanic landmass to try and get a date, so you don’t replicate my mistakes. 

First, I must apologize, ladies and nonbinary friends, my attempts have been strictly MLM (male loving male – my Multi Level Marketing ventures are unrelated). As such, you’ll have to look at my advice through the lens of a cis-homo male.

First, we need to figure out if it is possible to have a homoerotic encounter in Iceland. Looking at its history, Iceland is pretty queer. The country has had a queer organization (Samtönkin ‘78) for over 45 years, had the world’s first openly gay prime minister (Jóhanna Sigurðardóttir) and has the most LGBTQ+ members of society per capita (trust me). This means the likelihood of homo-to-homo communication is high. 

Great! So how do I meet them? Any good manhunt starts at a gay bar. If you’ve ever Googled the words “queer” and “Iceland” you know of Kiki. You can’t miss it, it’s the downtown building painted with a giant rainbow where Reykjavik’s most fashionably dressed gay tourists and straight women dance to the ABBA remix playing every night. I was able to strike up a wonderful conversation with a cute guy when they caught me hiding in the bathrooms hyperventilating, sadly it didn’t go anywhere. 

The alternative bar is Gaukurinn. It’s also downtown and it’s known to host many queer events. If Kiki is full to the brim with the party queens, Gaukurinn is filled with the leather jacket, spiked collared alt queers. They’re all friendly and wonderful, but a hot guy said “Hey” to me once and Gay Panic evolved into Gay Panic Attack real fast. I’ve never been able to go back.

If the bars are a no-go, then the alternative is apps. There are three in Iceland: Tinder, Grindr and Smitten. 

Tinder is Tinder except you run out of potential people to swipe on damn fast. But hey, if you’re looking for hunky gay sailors, flight attendants or tourists, it’s the place to be. Unfortunately, I’m simultaneously scared of the sea, inflight meals and camping gear, so Tinder didn’t work for me. 

There’s also Grindr. Those on Grindr know how thirsty people can be and on an island with such a small population, you might as well be slapped with a “Fresh Meat” label and taken to the market. Hungry queers grabbed at me from all sides. Too intense.

I was left with one final option. If anyone else is on Smitten, let me know, cause it seems to be me and some guy named Bjarki just chillin’ here.

And those are all the tips I can provide. Hopefully, you won’t follow my advice and will actually be able to find yourself someone to spend Pride with. 

Good luck, Godspeed, use protection, and happy hunting.