Alex is back from a San Diego–Seattle stretch spent surrounded by women, prompting uncomfortable questions about attraction, performance, and identity. Davis is still reeling from an unexpected run-in with Connor Storrie at a bar—an encounter that cracked something open and refused to stay there. The two unpack how their daddy issues manifest in very different ways, from emotional aloofness to Davis’s constant hair changes, and what it means to be deeply gay while still affected by the people who get too close. A conversation about desire, distance, and the many ways interruption shapes who we think we are.

We're back and better than ever! This week on Gay, Interrupted, Davis and Alex are joined by internet personality Becca DiLuzio who critics say “probably wouldn’t be doing this if she was loved as a child,” for an unhinged, clinically curious conversation about pop culture, psychology, relationships, and online performance.

Becca opens up about recently opening her six-year heterosexual relationship, sparking a candid discussion on modern dating, non-monogamy, desire, and why women who choose visibility are endlessly psychoanalyzed by the internet. The trio also break down Becca’s infamous Valentine’s Day content, where she pretended to be stood up to secure a free dinner, and how it became a full-blown discourse moment about gender roles, influencer ethics, and internet morality.

They dive into making content as kids, reality TV brain rot, and the psychological through-lines between childhood creativity, attention, and adult survival strategies—because nothing says “mental health-adjacent podcast” like diagnosing TikTok behavior.

Meanwhile, chaos reigns: Davis recounts a fire alarm going off in the middle of an intimate encounter the night before, and Alex shares a story involving tear gas that is somehow both traumatic and hilarious.

It’s a funny, self-aware pop-psych deep dive into internet culture, queer friendship, modern relationships, and why everyone online thinks they’re your therapist.

Davis and Alex are joined by Amelia Ritthaler from Girls Rewatch for a deep dive into life as a chronically online, perpetually over-it New Yorker. Dating apps, Equinox, orgies, Megan Stalter, Lena Dunham and more!

Amelia talks about her chaotic, beloved ecosystem of gay friends, the chosen-family energy that keeps her sane, and the emotional archaeology of living in New York long enough to have “eras.” Together, they spiral through the holy trinity of millennial-woman canon: Sex and the City, Girls, and Broad City, unpacking what each show got right, what each show derailed, and why all of them feel like scripture for messy people with rent-stabilized trauma.

And, of course, Amelia explains with precision and venom exactly why she hates dating, how romance in NYC feels like unpaid labor, and why she would rather hang out with her gays than listen to one more man monologue about his “creative project.”

It’s sharp, funny, nostalgic, and painfully relatable, like a group chat you absolutely should not screenshot. Tune in for a conversation that feels like brunch with friends who tell the truth.

Davis and Alex are joined by writer, comedian, and cosmic wanderer Ru Anderson (@ru.on.the.web) for an episode that drifts between enlightenment and absolute chaos.

Ru opens up about surviving their chaotic Saturn return, working on After Midnight with Taylor Tomlinson, and the spiritual whiplash of getting laid off in Hollywood. Ru talks about being a chef at ecstatic dance ceremonies, navigating and making content about Bay Area hippie culture, and chasing the elusive flow state—with a little help (and hindrance) from Adderall.

The conversation veers through Ru’s roots in Philly, the viral creative (and romantic) collaborations with writer and comedian EJ Marcus, and the tender absurdity of trying to stay grounded in LA. Meanwhile, Davis recounts the emotional wreckage of seeing his first love become a porn star, plus the psychological warfare of watching rival gay porn stars interact in real life. Alex, naturally, is still recovering from his throuple-adjacent weekend bender.

From poppers mishaps to gyms, Pilates cults, and sound baths, this episode is a fever dream of self-improvement, self-destruction, and self-awareness.

This week on Gay, Interrupted, Davis Benz and Alex Torres sit down with comedian, artist, and culinary genius Victor Carelesi to unpack everything from love to Sweetgreen-induced spirals.

Victor spills about moving in with his boyfriend, surviving the tundra hellscape that is Chicago, his run on the Food Network, collaborating with Meg Stalter, and his extremely serious Taylor Swift song predictions.

Meanwhile, Davis recounts his brush with Khloé Kardashian’s BBL in the wild, and they spiral through what it means to be neurodivergent, to repeatedly encounter people with BPD, and to finally face our patterns instead of dating them. Alex is going through some very intense stuff, so naturally we process it publicly on-air like adults.

Plus: the origin story of how Davis and Alex met, and their ongoing journey of unlearning attraction to terrible men—a lifelong practice.

It’s heartfelt, it’s unhinged, it’s healing-ish.Get into it.

The rumors are true! Davis and Alex are joined by their sexiest friend Chase James: artist, creative, and recovering over-sharer — for a brutally honest and deeply unserious chat about what it means to exist, create, and spiral in the hell that is 2025. The trio covers everything from dating a secret agent, the burgeoning Halloween industry (yes, wigs) gone wrong to the strange performance of “being chill” and making it on the internet, queer friendships that feel like therapy (but with worse advice), and the way addiction and healing show up in gay community spaces. Chase talks about the Burning Man birth/murder and even spills what it’s really like interacting Chrissy Teigan.

There’s talk of ghosts, Grindr, and the cursed art of pretending you’re okay when you’re actually one iced coffee away from breaking down in a Rite Aid. Chase gets real about identity and recovery, Davis can’t stop psychoanalyzing everyone and talking about dating older men who have sex swings and give him doxy and say good job.

It’s messy, sincere, and probably the most Gay, Interrupted episode yet — the kind of conversation that starts with a laugh and ends in a minor existential crisis.

Davis and Alex are joined by comedian, writer and cultural theorist Evan Lazarus (of Girls Rewatch), for a conversation that spirals from women and TV, Gen Z , to private school drama to mindlessly asking about Brooklyn weekend plans.

The trio dives into the canon of messy women on screen, dissecting Girls and Broad City, while detouring into Evan's infamous takes on Bethenny Frankel and their recent interview with Abbi Jacobson. They unpack the derangement of gay dating in New York vs. LA vs. SF and Davis' repressed experience attending an LA private high school. We of course talk about car sex, gym culture, and witnessing friends "make it." Davis and Alex reminisce on watching Evan and Amelia perform their show Girl Church in LA and beg them to come back to no avail.

They also get into the joy and delusion of having a podcast with your best friend, and Davis’s surreal night watching Meredith Marks DJ and hand out caviar with her gay son.

It’s sharp, chaotic, and weirdly heartfelt—equal parts cultural analysis, friend therapy, and group chat energy. Any one else ever compared a situationship to an HBO pilot? lol

Davis and Alex are joined by comedian, writer, karaoke host, and reluctant prophet Kristin Wallace for a trip straight into the beautiful, horrifying mess of modern existence.

Kristin bares all — from Lady Gaga meltdowns and deranged teacher stories to psych ward memories. She talks about dressing up as Erika Kirk just to feel something, spiraling into the D4vid–Celeste murder rabbit hole, and the quiet horror of Googling old classmates only to find obituaries instead of LinkedIns.

The conversation swerves between being the only Black girl in a white private school, the ghost town of MySpace, Fortnite as a coping mechanism, and the collective breakdown soundtracked by Tate McRae. There’s also an unholy amount of talk about Candace Owens.

It’s dark, hysterical, and deeply human — like scrolling through the apocalypse with your funniest friend narrating. Tune in if you’ve ever laughed at something you definitely shouldn’t have.