In 2021, I did not run a marathon. I didn't read the novels of Dostoyevsky. I didn't even organize my sock drawer.
I did, however, watch an entire season of "Love Island," the dating show that airs six nights a week for eight weeks throughout the summer in the United Kingdom, where it has become a warm-weather institution as beloved as a Pimm's cup.
Yes, that's right, I spent 50 or so hours — more than an entire work week! — watching young women in wildly impractical swimwear chatting up heavily tattooed men with questionable hairdos. I had so many questions as I watched, many of which had to do with the practical implications of wearing tiny thongs for 12 hours a day in intense humidity. Do "Love Island" producers have bikini waxers on call? Or gynecologists?
