Ahhh, Su(nburn)mmer

It's that time of year when Tiffany and I really become an interracial couple. You know, summer. Or, as it happens in San Francisco, that one rare gorgeous weekend when it's warm enough to wear a tank top without shivering. Well, of course we wore tank tops. And, of course, my Greek/Peruvian-blooded girlfriend went from tan to tanner while I went from white to red. No, I'm serious. If I'd been wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of blue shorts today, people might have stopped to salute me.

This is the reaction Tiffany and I get when it's tank top season, however long that may be wherever we are:

"Oh my god, Tiffany, what a gorgeous tan! Oh! Hi, Rebecca... ouch! Someone got too much sun!"

When Tiffany and I hold hands at our whitest and brownest, respectively, our interlocked fingers look like some sort of public service advertisement for embracing diversity. Sometimes I think my whiteness actually helps her. I reflect the sun in her direction.

We went paddle-boarding on Sunday with a couple of friends who are as vanilla as me, and they had so much sun screen on we stuck to them when we hugged. They tag-teamed their whiteness--she covered his shaved head with SPF 85 (!!) and he took care of her bare shoulders. I think it would have been easier to protect my skin if I'd fallen in love with a girl with a compatible hue. Alas, my love is as brown as a berry. And I'm... ouch.