What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?
Oh, what are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?"
Words so beautifully crooned by Ella Fitzgerald in 1960 that they have reverberated through the years and are in all of our heads.
So, what was I doing New Year's Eve? Well, I was planning on going out for the evening, likely to one of the places I spent much of my summer. And since the closest of those places is Eleanor's in Bohemia, I thought I might go there. I don't like to go far on New Year's Eve. Too many drunks on the road, and, while taking a Lyft keeps me off the drunk-driving scene, it's no guard against all the others out there.
Lyft drivers aren't magic elves and are subject to the same dangerous lunatics careening towards you on a one-way road that we all are.
But by sometime in December I knew I was staying in. I like to say I'm previous infection, 3x vaxxed, and highly relaxed, but you know, I don't like to push it.
Also I suffer from the condition of giving a shit about people who aren't me, so, I don't want to pick up anything I'm going to pass on to some baby or immunocompromised person. Crazy, right!?
Anyway, it wasn't until only days before the evening itself that local cancellations began rolling in.
I belong to several Facebook groups that list local events, and I watched as the updates happened.
Here are some lovely responses from Ira's List:
"But aren’t you even going to the event that you created and advertised for the last 2 months and even sold advanced tickets to at the club you promote for? That would be just a little disingenuous even if this is a joke post. If I’m a band or club owner looking to give people a much needed choice during these insane times, I might be a little pissed off by this passive aggressive attempt at fear mongering. This is not what one expects from a professional marketing page for bands and venues."
Ira, I demand you die to prove you are a professional!
"Good for those that choose to go out tonight and live their lives and not give into the fear and paranoia."
That gem is representative of about 50 similar stupid comments left across several Long Island event pages.
Eight hundred thousand Americans dead and you're afraid! Go out, party, fuck Grandpa! Fuck that neighbor who is receiving chemo and can't withstand catching Covid! Yay America!
"Cancellations? Fly to Miami to celebrate with AOC, who, like all of our so-called leaders, troll everyone over COVID. Yep, AOC is out partying hard"
And of course, every righty's favorite boogiewoman, AOC. Boy, do they hate her. I'm not even a big fan of hers, but it's so obvious how right wing men despise her while being unable to control their physical attraction to her.
And that combo boils up as a big crazy-town gumbo. Stand back lest you get splashed, that is some boiling hot psycho soup coming towards you!
Ladies, I present to you the Long Island Dating pool.
Sure, some of the women in the comments are as bad, trust me. There are far more of these comments made by men, but trust, there are plenty of seething MAGA ladies on Long Island. And I'm sure that among those commentators there are some great matches abrewing. Thankfully, the places I tend to go, the patrons are too old to breed. But it's not all good news; most of them already have and are busy raising little MAGAettes.
But what's in the Long Island Crazy Witch's brew for me?
This is a good part of why my Summer of the Fuckboi failed. It's hard to get a ladyboner for this collection of psychos, thugs, and mamma's boys. Reading through the comments over the weekend, I thought to myself "Cath, these are the guys who will be asking you out come spring."
I mean, why don't I just move to Alabama? Same dating pool and a significantly lower cost of living.
But Alabama isn't 30 miles east of New York City, a place I will be spending quite a bit more time in come spring 2022, that's for sure. Time to widen the pool.
Of course, I still have to go out all winter long and stand in line at the grocery stores and Dunkin with these Neanderthals. And they are still in my building, coughing their way onto the elevators, refusing to wear masks, refusing to be vaccinated.
Long Island 2022 people, it's gonna be a hell of a ride. Buckle up and don't forget your pepper spray. You're gonna need it...assuming you're sane.