“From memory, the conversation ran: ‘Have you had
relationships with women?’ And I said: ‘Yes, many times. Do you mean
have I had sexual relationships with women? Then the answer is no.’ But
that obviously didn’t make it.”
Fine, Cate Blanchett. FINE. You didn’t spend your nights in the late ‘90s sitting on a roof with Gillian Anderson getting high and talking about UFOs and the ephemeral nature of life and our tiny place in this enormous universe. You didn’t hold her hand at the MoMA and brush her hair out of her face when she started to cry after you and found yourself face-to-canvas with Monet’s wall-sized Water Lilies. You weren’t kicked out of Notre-Dame de Paris one Sunday morning after getting accidentally drunk together at brunch and deciding to attend mass on a whim. You don’t need the scissoring t-shirt I bought to mail to you because NONE OF THAT HAPPENED.
I WAS TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHY HOBI WAS LOOKING LIKE REALLY NICE TODAY, LIKE MORE THAN USUAL. AND I FIGURED OUT HE HAD BRUSHED HIS HAIR BACK WITH HIS FINGERS AND GAVE HIMSELF HIS ‘NO MORE DREAM’ QUIFF LIKE PLS HOBI STOP