It's Not You, It's Global Warming


Look, if it were up to me, we'd be together. You're amazing. But it was 60 degrees the other day -- in early March! Earth is in the balance here, honey.

Last weekend at your place, I wanted to have sex with the lights out and go to sleep. You wanted to not have sex and instead sit in the living room with the lights on (carbon) running a space heater (carbon) and watching your favorite movie for the tenth time (television, DVD player, surround system, carbon carbon carbon) while eating microwaved (carbon) popcorn. We watched "Grease," thereby supporting John Travolta, whose big-budget movie sets produce a lot of carbon, and subsidizing his private jet (awful amounts of carbon), which I read about in your copy of People (which you have delivered, adding to the carbon footprint of the U.S. Postal Service).

It all would have been so endearing, if we hadn't killed a polar bear before the end of "Summer Lovin'." They don't love summer. Who speaks for them?

On Tuesday I wanted to enjoy locally purchased, affordable Subway sandwiches: in walking distance, made on fresh-baked non-delivered bread, chased with tap water. You insisted on The Melting Pot for fondue, which we drove to in your non-hybrid Aztec. We had expensive cheese (imported from foreign countries at great carbon costs) with your friends Linda and Jean, who wear enough makeup to keep a Revlon factory open by themselves (carbon). During dinner you planned a girls-only Bahamas weekend at the air-conditioned carbon factory known as Sandals, and never mind the extra carbon costs to any plane carrying Linda. You ordered imported wine ("just bring me something French and around $50"; see cheese note), and you insisted that I pay, thereby requiring me to work overtime on Wednesday. I am not wounded by missing the domestic draft specials at happy hour, but the planet weeps over three extra hours of electricity at my office.

These things are so bittersweet. It was an unforgettable night, and I felt very close to you as I sat silently on the edge of your conversation. But did you hear the gurgling sound? You probably thought it was Linda slurping down $23 of fontina. It was actually people in the low-lying coastal regions of Bangladesh drowning.

On Thursday you stayed over, insisted on turning up the heat (carbon), and again declined to have carbon-saving darkness sex. Instead, we cranked up the 'ol carbon box to watch a rerun of "Grey's Anatomy" which you had seen before, and even you have to admit was pretty much a stretch, because who would want to be with that psycho Meredith? (I know you identify with her, forgive me, I am fragile right now.) The next morning you took a shower first (understandable, it was 80 degrees my room), but used all of the hot water (carbon).

I enjoy an Earth-friendly cold shower, and I needed one. I am so happy to make sacrifices for you. But not if it means battering the Gulf Coast with category 5 hurricanes.

Please don't hate me. Hate the lobbies that prevent the building of nuclear power plants. Maybe if I could afford to weatherize my house, we could offset our time together. But looking for a higher-paying job would mean significant carbon costs that I cannot abide. I know you will also understand that, to eliminate the carbon footprint of a) moving my stuff out of your place and b) using a computer to set up a account, I am going to start dating your roommate. If you come home to a dark living room next week please remember the lights are off for a reason.

Blue but green,


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One man's quest to be the humblest person alive
Copyright 2013, Chris White