By the way, New Year’s Eve was totally fine. Totally fun even. And yes, I did leave the house after all. That’s always the right answer, for me at least, as I’ve been sitting on my couch with a laptop cramming to finish a series of…I’m going to say “content” so mind-numbing I was going to say “cry” but I’m no longer capable of human emotion, though partially that has to do with being beaten down generally by the second half of 2015 and maybe a little to do with the Topimax which some bipolar types (which I am not–just migraines) take as a mood stabilizer but for me just makes me spacey and careless and uncaring at the same time.
This is as good a time as any to re-bring up how I had an thing in the ‘90s where I was dating (ok, one was just a makeout) guys with last names that started with Ro, Rob, Rob again, then Robb. I matched with a guy on a dating app a few months ago that I kind of just wanted to go out with at least once because I knew his last name was Robb, which he wasn’t aware of, but then he umatched me, which you could say makes him the sane one, but it’s not like he knew my motives. And then I found out that wasn’t his given surname after all. I think this broke the pattern.
And this leads to my new pairing with the doubles. I accidentally had a thing NYE with another more subtly double-named gentleman than the West Coast doubledouble but I didn’t know that at the time because I didn’t know his last name. Actually, I had to piece together his first name the first day of the year using a large decorative letter in his living room as a clue but that’s neither here nor there. (And then I saw this friend-of-friends on happn that afternoon. “You’ve crossed paths with so and so on such and such street at such and such time” Yeah, no shit. And the world’s biggest LOL–seriously, I just chortled audibly–to not matching with someone you slept with 12 hours earlier. God bless 2016 already.) What I’ve decided would be the coolest would be if I could meet someone with a surname closest to my own name a la Kris Kristofferson. And then I’d marry him despite making stinks over the years about women taking men’s last names. I’m working my way up a ladder here.
I’ve really been wanting to talk about the second season of Transparent and how much I feel like I lived it, transgender issues and anything related to the Jewish experience all aside. Seriously. Can I be more opaque than saying the actress who plays Margeaux is like my real life Colton and I’m Raquel? Watching the show blew my mind in ways I don’t have words for. That would be a good goal for 2016, the ability to parse and break down and convey the indescribably personal in universally relatable ways. That’s why I’ve always been in awe of fiction. I can’t even articulate fact.
And now I have to write about cross-border ecommerce in seven more countries. Ok.