It’s hard to deny that 2016 was just a bitch of a year.

While we drove home from work the other day, my wife and I went back and forth naming as many of the year’s calamities as we could. It was a long and exhausting list of terrible things that will forever be synonymous with the year 2016. Which is why it feels weird, absurd, I’m not sure what, to have gotten married in 2016.

Sometimes it’s hard to hold these two things in my head: Trump will be our President and his election opened a Pandora’s box of prejudice in America, and I’m in a legal same-sex, biracial marriage. America: truly a land of contrasts.

Many years ago, the great food writer Jonathan Gold wrote an article about how he’d spend the day before the apocalypse. I think it was in the LA Weekly. I can’t find it online, so maybe it was just a fever dream, but even if it never existed, it’s something I think about often.

He’d have a croissant at Europane (where the staff know my wife by name), and some potato tacos downtown. And then, when his wife got home from work, they would sit outside and hold hands, watching the world burn.

Sometimes it feels like that’s what we’re doing. And sometimes it feels like my wife and I share this crazy secret, or like we just barely got away with something.


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