For years, scientists have been expressing concerns about the impacts of climate change, with a recent study concluding that about 10,000 homes will be at risk of flooding annually by the year 2050. To combat this, Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez has proposed legislation known as the Green New Deal, a comprehensive set of actions to fight the environmental and economic impacts of climate change.
We must take action and support her policies because if we don’t, my hypothetical future wife and I will have to prepone our eventual retirement to the Maine coastline. Initially, I planned on us moving there in our late sixties, but given that the flooding will happen in 2050, I might have to retire earlier.
This would be catastrophic for the planet, but more importantly, I haven’t had the chance to go to Michael’s to get the beige yarn for the cable-knit sweaters I’m making for us. At the rate that temperatures are rising, who knows if we will even be able to wear them? Does my generation have the right to the sapphic dream of wearing thick flannels with our wives as we walk hand in hand on a rocky beach, or are our elders going to take that away from us with inaction?
Perhaps older adults consider this as a bit of an overreaction. But unfortunately, this is my generation’s reality. While my parents could easily expect to own a suburban home with a two-car garage, Leila and I cannot hope to purchase a lighthouse on our meager salaries anytime soon. If our lighthouse is going to go underwater eventually, should we even bother buying one? Initially, I imagined that we’d leave it to our hypothetical future adopted son Dmitry for his own financial security, but now we might have to settle for a more economical haunted seaside residence instead.
What will we tell our kids? Specifically, what will Leila and I tell Dmitry when he wants to learn the lobster trapping trade? Rising ocean temperatures are driving lobsters to endangerment, so that may not even be a profitable skill to have anymore. Should I just tell Dmitry that his passions don’t matter and he needs to become a petroleum engineer or something?
And don’t even get me started on deforestation. If I can’t count on having at least one annual autumnal drive through the mountains in September, followed by a wine-and-cheese picnic atop a short peak that my wife and I spend the morning hiking together, I’m going to fucking lose it. Corporate lobbyists from the fossil fuel industry are working against environmental justice movements for the sole purpose of stopping me from having the retirement of my dreams, and I will not stand for it. Enough is enough. Congress, if you do not support the Green New Deal, you are homophobic, and I will not hesitate to cancel you.
My plans were perfect. Leila and I were going to meet in a bagel shop in Montreal, and, in a slow-burn romance over the course of three years, we were supposed to fall in love and get married in London. But now, thanks to Congress’s refusal to act, I’m going to have to speed everything up on my end, and our love story is going to be all weird. The future of our planet and my marriage is at stake. Wish us luck.