Oscar Isaac Is Ruining My Life

This is a cautionary tale.

A month ago, I was a carefree, happy young woman. I had a loving family and wonderful friends. Like the rest of the world, I was looking forward with giddy anticipation to The Force Awakens, the seventh installment in the Star Wars saga. Wanting to shield myself from potential spoilers, I saw only the trailer and a few interview snippets of stars Daisy Ridley and John Boyega. They were charming and sweet. That BB-8 thing was cute.

I already knew I liked the rest of the cast: Ford and Fisher and Hamill and, of course, Llewyn Davis himself, Oscar Isaac. What a talented and diverse coterie Mr. JJ Abrams has assembled, I thought. And then I saw the movie.

I... what... it... it boggles the mind, IT BOGGLES THE FUCKING MIND. Is Oscar Isaac a warlock? Is he the human incarnation of heroin? Is he me from a parallel universe, come to haunt my every waking hour? Since December 18th, there has been nary a moment that I have not been thinking about Oscar Isaac. He is now my desktop background and my phone lock screen. I've texted pictures of him to at least half a dozen acquaintances, former friends who have cut me out of their lives because I won't stop talking about Oscar Isaac. I'd seen him in other films before, but something about watching him fly that X-wing... It's a nightmare. A steamy, multi-ethnic, Juilliard-trained nightmare.

This is nothing like my old crush on Leonardo DiCaprio. Yes, I did once have a Leo-themed sleepover where we watched an assortment of his films (Titanic, Catch Me If You Can and Romeo and Juliet... I got up early and watched The Beach by myself) and wrote him letters (never sent). But Oscar makes Leo look like my old Avril Lavigne poster or mini backpack: something I loved in another time, but for which I no longer have any need. Now, everything is Oscar Isaac.

I took this quiz very seriously. I downloaded the episode of Criminal Intent he's on (it's about voodoo and it's really good). In addition to all of Show Me A Hero, over the past three weeks I also watched A Most Violent Year, In Secret, PU-239 (a 2006 HBO movie about uranium smuggling) and Robin Hood. Robin Hood! The one with Russell Crowe. I sat through the whole thing for the few moments of Oscar Isaac. Was it worth it? Yes and no. Yes, because he is, as always, very good. No, because what the hell am I doing with my life?

I feel like Elizabeth Olsen in In Secret. At first, she thinks it would be worth giving up everything to have sex with Oscar Isaac. I get that. But her desire to have more sex with Oscar Isaac ends up destroying her. I get that, too. I don't eat, I don't sleep, I do nothing but think of Oscar Isaac.

That, by the way, was a version of a lyric from "Under Your Spell" from Drive. You know who is in Drive? Oscar. Fucking. Isaac. The most beautiful and talented man in the world.

What really bothers me, what REALLY bothers me, is that I had a chance, a few years ago, to meet him. I was an intern at A24 films, which was then producing A Most Violent Year. There was a day I could have gone to the set. And I chose -- stupidly, rashly, against my better judgment -- to spend that day not on set, but in class. Getting an education. FOR WHAT? TO GRADUATE? INSTEAD OF MAYBE MEETING OSCAR ISAAC? I COULD BE HIS WIFE BY NOW.

If you've read this far, it's likely because you too suffer from Oscar Isaac Infatuation. I wish I could say that it gets better, that there's hope and help out there. But I'm too far down the rabbit hole to see any light from above. Right now, I'm taking it a day at a time, trying to keep my Oscar-iest impulses in check. From my loved ones, all I ask for is love, patience, and please don't look at my search history.