Someone Loves Me, Finally
How you are instantly reborn when your muse says they love you (back).
Everyone, stop what you’re doing! Pencils down! Shut up! I have news. Life-changing news. Break-the-sky kind of news.
Are you ready for it?
My muse loves me. Well, …loves me back. There IS a difference. Because I loved her first and proclaimed it first, the “back” strongly implies after-the-fact love. Which I’m OK with given the circumstances.
I’ve missed a step. Several. Let’s go back to the beginning.
When I decided I wanted to become a writer, I was asked what my writer flow would be. I took a deep, contemplative breath, paused and said, “I want to be some mixture of the following:”
A proper writer (while not being entirely clear on what “proper writer” entailed, but it sounded good at the time),
A humorist and raconteur (this is the central theme of this story),
Michaela Coel (have you seen Chewing Gum and I May Destroy You? ‘Nuff said.), and
The Dali-fucking-Lama.
A humorist, by definition, according to Wikipedia, is “an intellectual who uses humor, or wit, in writing or public speaking, but is not an artist who seeks only to elicit laughter. Humorists are distinct from comedians, who are show business entertainers whose business is to make an audience laugh. A raconteur is one who tells anecdotes in a skillful and amusing way.”
As a life-long writer-in-waiting, at the time of writing my “writer flow” list, I was very much still a novice. That was me dreaming big, to be clear. Shooting for the moon to land in the stars. When it comes to becoming a humorist and raconteur, I discovered and henceforth locked in on one particular muse: Samantha Irby.
You may not know her, but you know her:
She’s published several books of her personal essays (my fandom began upon reading we’re never meeting in real life).
She was in the writer’s room of And Just Like That (say and think what you will about that show, but you can’t say that shit wasn’t funny!)
She shares the gory details of her life, often delving into her experience with IBS.
She also writes a Substack called Bitches Gotta Eat! when she has time between book tours, TV writers rooms, and the like. The focus is typically on her hot take on episodes of Judge Mathis.
So, where did we leave off? Right, Sam Irby loves me back. “But how, Jocelyn?” you ask. “And pray tell why?”
Well, t’was last Monday eve, Monday, February 19th, when the shit that occurred was made possible. We were all still coming down from the high of the True Detective: Night Country season finale the previous day. The internet was all a-buzz with emotions, this so totally being the best season of True Detective yet and all. That morning, I’d posted my own take on the finale to my IG stories. My verdict?
“I love stories. I tell stories. And I gotta say, I am FLOORED by the beauty and layered, thoughtful complexity of this story. BRAVO!!! 5-ice cube rating.”
Cut to later in the day. I open Instagram to do my usual afternoon mindless scrolling, and what do I see? My muse and personal hero Sam Irby also has something to say about the Night Country season finale. I’m instantly intrigued.
She’d also been so overcome with emotion that she’d written a whole Substack post on the matter entitled, “i cannot stop thinking about true detective: cold lesbians — plus some other stuff to sit and look at, and a humiliating glimpse inside my OCD.” Like a good internet influencer, she then posted about her Substack post on Instagram.
If you’ve watched the show, you’ll know that True Detective: Cold Lesbians just works. Genuinely spot on. Why, she’s as hysterical as I wanna be!
As soon as I opened the app, I stumbled upon it. I, per usual, LOL’d reading the title, because damn, this woman is GOOD. If you’ve watched the show, you’ll know that True Detective: Cold Lesbians just works. Genuinely spot on. Who else thinks like that but humorists? Why, she’s as hysterical as I wanna be!
I was so wrecked with emotion and admiration that I had to tell her. HAD TO. I simply had to comment.
“Hahaha I love you🧊”
I did it on pure adrenaline. Yes, maybe it was a bit cringe but it didn’t matter. It needed to be said, so I said it. I stood firmly behind my choice.
Hours later, around 11:30 pm, I got the surprise of a lifetime: a reply from Sam.
It read, simply, “@joceyjack I love you back”
Sam Irby loves me back? Sam Irby loves me back!!!!!!
:: Actively faints. Dies. Resurrection. Is instantly reborn::
x, Jocelyn J
Someone? You now who loves you U now Joselyn
I love you
I m Who i am because of you
You are every teason,
Evry hope
And evry dream
I’ve never had
And no matter what happens
To us in the future
Evryday day we are together
Is the great day on my life !