I’m just so proud of my friends for taking social distancing so seriously. It’s almost been a year since the last time I saw them, and we’ve never had a stronger bond!
They were so smart to rent that Hamptons Airbnb back in March. It’s nearly impossible for the virus to spread out there because those people don’t settle for anything above 1%–– in terms of socioeconomic status, female body fat, or milk (on the rare occasion that it’s not oat)–– so they definitely wouldn’t let COVID-19 infection rates rise above 1%, either.
My friends would have invited me to quarantine with them, but the virus tends to infect groups of people in odd numbers. They said that’s what Fauci said. It’s got OCD, so I would definitely endanger everyone by upping our pod to five people, even if I did recommend my really good therapist to the virus.
Although I can’t be with them in person, their constant posting all over social media makes me feel like I’m still in their presence. I saw on their Snapchat stories last week that they organized a scaled-back soirée to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Kendall Jenner cutting them in the bathroom line at Coachella. Apparently, Cara Delevingne had trashed the VIP one. I don’t blame her though. I would’ve also trashed the VIP bathroom at Coachella if the last relevant thing I had done was starring in a John Green film adaption.
To be able to come to their pandemic gathering, I offered to isolate for two weeks in my bedroom and then stay the night at another place. However, they said that I really couldn’t come because one of my friends is immunocompromised from her Juul addiction. Additionally, I once had a really bad experience with Ciroc (which is what they’re using to sterilize everything) so I wouldn’t be able to help clean the villa.
All of these precautions kept my friends safe from COVID-19, but they didn’t stop them from getting sick of the Hamptons. I just found out that they are planning to quarantine in France for the winter. Since the cases of coronavirus are spiking in Europe, they are probably going abroad to volunteer at testing centers in Paris. After all, my friends are a really selfless bunch.
In fact, they go to the Bahamas every year to tutor underprivileged children. They specialize in pharmaceutical label reading comprehension. I never see photos of them working with the kids, only pictures of them at that island with the swimming pigs. It’s probably because they are so busy volunteering that they can only take pictures when they aren’t teaching the Bahamian youth to find the difference between Xanax’s and Valium’s potential side effects.
Their trans-Atlantic move makes a lot of sense to me, because my friends would be the best people to run a coronavirus testing center. No one would ever receive a false positive or negative on their watch, as they hate anything fake. One time, I brought a Praba bag to dinner and my friends were so offended that they ditched me before our charcuterie board had even arrived. The waiter felt really bad, so he gave me the complimentary birthday dessert even though I obviously wasn’t celebrating a birthday: it was the middle of summer, and only a Pisces could sob in public to the extent that I did.
I think it was super considerate of my friends to skip inviting me to their Parisian isolation. They know that I’m allergic to gluten, so the airborne exposure to all of those croissants and baguettes would really just be bad for me. I can’t wait for this pandemic to be over so I can see my friends in person and truly express my gratitude to them. Those girls just mean the world to me–– even if that world is quickly crumbing under the weight of a viral illness–– and I want them to know that.
I bet my friends will even let me look them in the eye if I thank them enough.
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