It was time. Even so, I freaked out when I lost my Ray-Bans. I’d them for eight years. They were dirty, the temples were loose, and I’d misplaced them over a dozen times over the years.
This time they were gone. I was at the beach. I’d moved. I left them in a store, by a pool, on the roof of a car, somewhere. They were gone and it was time to get new ones. My model is the round double bridge in black.
Why did losing the old pair make me so anxious? It’s the PTSD I’ve suffered from for eight years, going back to the nightmare Stasi political hit that was put on me in 2018. Everybody knows the symptoms of trauma—reliving the episode long after the fact, a fight-or-flight response (or “stay alert stay alive”), trouble with intimacy and trust. Another one is avoiding eye contact.
Sunglasses help you manage, especially avoiding eye contact. In 2018 communist opposition researchers followed me around, scrapped my computer, and made sure my face was all over the media. When it was over I treated myself to an electric bike, a new Carver skateboard, and a sharp pair of Ray-Bans. I wore them everywhere, and long after everyone had forgotten about me. They were a security blanket, protection. I wore them in church.
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