I tried to remember the last time I’d run into an open body of water, or danced at a club, or sung a pop song, without a layer of self-irony undermining the sincerity of it all, without the need to let people know that “it was obviously a joke” through exaggerated body language or an overly accentuated Cher impression. I, in my anxious, sarcastic, self-parodying state, have never been and never will be the kind of person to “take it and run.”
Author: William Ridd
For The Love Of Chicken Thighs: Feeling Meh In My Skin
I’m not in love with my body. We have a low-commitment, no-strings relationship. We get on well, we serve each other’s needs – but that’s it. There is nothing romantic about our entanglement. And there needn’t be. I am okay with my imperfections.
For The Love of CATS: A Vindication of the Rights of Felines
It wasn’t enough to simply dislike the film, to sit patiently, wait until the end and later inform your friends, ‘alas, not really my cup of tea!’. We couldn’t just let CATS be. We had to destroy it. It became a game to see who could leave the most scathing review, who could launch the most ruthless attack.
For The Love Of GRINDR: Accept My Friend Request
You see him around Oxford a few times. You smile. He looks at you awkwardly, gives you a stiff nod and later sends you a “You up?” message on Grindr at 2am. You down a can of G&T, dowse yourself in Febreze and head over to his place.
For The Love of [REDACTED]: Never Meet Your Heroes
I was going to impress them with my perfectly-selected, painstakingly-crafted witty phrases. They would laugh, perhaps engage in my verbal sparring. We’d do this for about five minutes or so. Then they’d look deeply into my eyes and ask me to come on tour with them.
For the Love of Garland: Remembering the Ruby Slippers
Viewing celebrities as the sum total of the struggles they faced strips them of their nuance and their complexities. Their life becomes a tragedy in five acts, one we don’t fully engage with.