Victoria L. Meyers

I like to look back at the end of every year and see what I was doing this time years ago. Here is my ex-boyfriend Hunter and I in 2010 hanging out on in Prospect Park, Brooklyn. I remember that day was freezing (still wore my suncream I see – but it wasn’t rubbed in properly (!?). We had just seen a single, pathetic-looking, cold, unbouncy Kangaroo in Brooklyn Zoo. It was just staring at me. I hate zoos. I felt so bad after seeing that. Especially all of the families having fun while one poor creature suffered. I feel like that is animal cruelty to take an animal away from its natural sub-tropical climate just so people who live in a cold climate can see this animal. Honestly, that Kangaroo was as homesick as hell. It would have probably put up its paw happily to become someone’s Kangaroo burger. People are cruel.

Yeah so poor frozen country-man / kangaroo in Brooklyn. They could have at least placed him with another kangaroo or given him a heated area, or shifted him to Florida for the winter. At least they could have given him giant tailor-made Ugg boots to wear and a shearling coat and ear covers.

Hunter has since produced the ‘It can wait’ ad work for AT&T with a famous director that educated Americans on keeping their eyes on the road, not their phone. That is a pretty big deal. We hung out in his apartment on Rivington Street, and then he relocated to London for work. He has since co-invented Hipster traps and a Nerd-Pimp comic, and he’s made Swedish Fish funnier.

Selfie in my apartment with new Moscot eye glasses. I was now away from the rat and Irishman, safe and sound in Manhattan.

I admit I am addicted to a particular sunscreen and usually it makes my complexion nicer, not like a half-painted Geisha. I’m sure I must have applied it when we were lying in Prospect Park that Sunday. Obviously I did not look in the mirror. That afternoon, we went shopping in SoHo and Hunter bought me a dress. He was so nice. When I went to London to visit him, we visited Amsterdam. On the way home in the air, he said to me ‘what was your favourite part of the weekend?’. I said ‘riding our bikes through the city what about you?’ And he said ‘you.’ We would walk through the streets of the Lower East Side and he sang a few lines of Journey’s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’ to me. It was thrilling to be walking in silence and then have a boy sing me a song. And he had a lovely voice.