Eva voor president

Spoiler alert. Here writes a completely biased and non-objective human being. And as this epistle nears its end, you are just as little objective and biased as I am. That is the goal at least. It's about Eva. You know, the only woman who has come close to Sonja Barend.
I still remember very well the first time I saw Eva. On TV, that is. She seemed to me the prototype overachiever. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but when everything is too perfect, it can be a bit intimidating. She was beautiful, wore a snazzy suit, and her American accent gave it all an invincible glow. I made a joke. How I could imagine her preparing before she appeared on camera. Her lips puffing, her breasts pushing up, and actively stamping her foot to boost her adrenaline level a bit. You know: nothing inhuman is foreign to me.
That was before I knew the real Eva. The Eva who, god bless her, takes a little power nap in her office chair wearing a HEMA sausage sweater. The Eva who brings her colleagues Tony's Chocolonely caramel/seasalt bars and still manages to down two Bifi sausages herself. The Eva who, if I were to dress her (because yes, that's how far we've come), asked if I could feel her belly for a moment. “Then you'll know how it feels, something so soft and creamy. You don't feel that very often.” Or the Eva who stood on a pouf in our office, grabbed her belly, and then pointed to a, okay, I admit it, quite revealing outfit I had in mind for her. With the exclamation that I had completely lost my mind. The Eva whose secret pleasure is to rummage through my trash can and then lies bent over the contents. In our office, you won't find wrappers from Bifi sausages or apple cores, but ribbons (“Ribbons, May. RIBBONS!”) from Dior and golden envelopes and invitations on handmade paper. She finds it hilarious.
The Eva who wants to have lunch with you with wine at Izakaya. The Eva who wants to talk about work and life. The Eva who can have tears in her eyes when something bad happens in your life. The Eva who pinched my arm at a fashion party and said I shouldn't ask anything else because otherwise she would have to cry. The Eva who struggles with the question of whether you want to be known for someone it was nice to work with or for someone who was good at her job. The Eva who strives to make both happen. The Eva who texts to ask if we are all still holding up because my beloved is often away from home because of her show. The Eva who dares to cry on her show. The Eva who laughs. The Eva who tackled Jules Deelder. And Jan Roos for that matter. The Eva who is so fond of her family. That Eva.
You understand who I wish the Silver Star tonight.
Eva for president.
Amen.

Want more Eef and May? Then look here at our quite hilarious car ride.
Want more Eef and May II? Then look here to the piece I wrote about Eva's ambition.