BYOS: Bring Your Own Soup
Last week I went to a press screening for Gifted, the new movie starring Jenny Slate and Chris Evans. I have written more than once about my deep affection (well as deep as you can feel for a person who you only really 'know' through their performances and snatches of press appointments, I guess) I have for Chris. I refer to him as 'Chris', for example, as though we are childhood buds; I have never met him, and we are not pals. Anyway, I profiled him last year, and he followed me on Twitter after the piece was published, and for a brief chunk of time — days rather than weeks, I must stress — I was caught in the sweep of the Sauron-like eye of his most ardent fans. I saw comments about myself on Tumblr and Twitter; in fact I hadn't realised he had followed me until I saw notifications from a few people asking me how it felt to be followed by Cap. I am a culture writer and besides writing for the internet, I actually live on it. So of course I knew people monitored shit like that but I was...a little startled, I suppose?
Months later, it emerged that Chris and Jenny (see how casually I refer to them, like we're all friends!) had ended their relationship. If you can, I urge you to read the interviews both gave, separately, published after the breakup news emerged. Chris's is here. Jenny's is here. I felt the fleeting sadness that accompanies all breakups where it seems like the villain was simply life and logistics – why can't these two kids just work it out??? But we don't know anything about anything, do we? So I wish them everything I wish for my friends in similar circumstances: peace, real joy, and eventually, new love if they want it. Life is difficult and the world is scary, man. Find love where you can, and rise in it.
By the way: Gifted is a movie that didn't have to be as good as it is. The little girl actor is adorable. Jenny Slate is a(n underused) goddess. Lindsay Duncan is so accomplished it makes my teeth itch. Octavia Spencer is a natural delight whose skills are too great for the career Hollywood racism has handed her. Chris Evans reminds me ever more clearly that when his Marvel days are over, he would do well to plough the furrow of 'principled, bearded men who wear Henleys really well' – he would knock it out the park. It's a charming movie. I cried twice. It may have been PMS, but I think it's also just that this movie is a decent little thing.
I have been ill for the last few days, and have been drinking hot Lemsip and knocking back DayQuil like a champ. I live alone, and I like it that way, but whew, it's a pain when you're sick. I told my friend K that I never feel more single than when I am ill. Nothing is more pathetic than that specific ill walk to the kitchen, duvet trailing behind you, as you fill up the kettle to make yourself a cup of tea. Look, I realise one can be looked after without a boyfriend. As I understand it, the ability to fetch treats and hot drinks is not the top thing people look for in life companions. But I'm just saying: isn't it easier to stretch out your feverish toe at 2am, and poke someone with it, and then order them to warm you up some tomato soup because that's what you fancy feeding your fever with? Exactly.
The sun came out this weekend, and reminded me how lovely New York in the sunshine is. So many possibilities! I looked at the dirty mugs around my bed and in the kitchen sink, and I thought: ugh – this is not spring-like. So I guess you can, in a way, consider this email a long and convoluted, mildly non-committal ad for a boyfriend: apply within. It'd be nice if you had a dog. You will not have to wash the mugs. But please, bring your own soup.