HEY YO, it’s Friday. Friday before Christmas, and I’m Jolly as hell, if that’s possible. Because I’m so cheerful, I’ve got a treat for ya! Resident Nice Guy Matthew wrote a lil somethin’ somethin’ to warm your hearts just in time for St. Nick’s visit. Enjoy!
Being single this time of year sucks.
I’m not speaking just in terms of Christmas and New Years. I’m talking December, I’m talking winter, I’m talking when it has the potential of getting cold enough (at least here in Kansas) to make you want to wet yourself to stay warm. Maybe it would more appropriate for me to say being single from about late November to late March really sucks. However, since Christmas is merely a short number of days away let’s keep this timely shall we?
During this time of year there is one particular type of person you do not want to be; a hopeless, old-fashioned, romantic. A person like this isn’t necessarily lost between the realms of reality and fantasy. This is the type of person who holds on to the belief that if you truly want the love-story-of-all-love-stories it’s up to you to make it happen. Do you know anyone like this? If not, please allow me to introduce you to one so you aren’t lost as you continue to read on.
Hi. It’s a pleasure to meet you.
It is my most humbled opinion that around this time every year my brain becomes hard-wired for having someone special in my life. Let me paint you a [word] picture (if anything, because I studied art for nearly a decade and I would hate to let those fine-crafted skills go to waste):
Our Story Begins…
On this particular imaginary December Saturday evening it is bitterly cold and snowing. Inside of the apartment one can hear Michael Buble singing ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’; (Editor’s note: here, allow me
…while from the kitchen two other voices can be heard laughing and singing along. While I am busy adding a secret ingredient (Rum Chata) to a couple cups of hot cocoa, [insert name of woman I should be dating] is plating our Chinese take-out. Carrying our respected dishes of the perfect “snowed in” meal we head to the living room where the fireplace has already been turned on to provide a combination of ambiance and warmth. As we both settle onto my freakishly awesome couch we begin the first Christmas movie planned for our holiday marathon.
Now, in the ideal situation I’ll be lucky enough to find a woman who will appreciate (tolerate) some of my unique choices in Christmas movies; such as Gremlins and Die Hard. However, other choices would consist of classics such as Holiday Inn andWhite Christmas; comedies like Christmas Vacation and Home Alone; to the more serious plot lines of Serendipity and The Family Stone. Regardless of what we watch, once we’ve finished eating she curls up in my arms and we cuddle under a fleece blanket.
As the credits begin to roll on the second film I get up indicating that I’ll take the dog(s) out for a quick walk. While I’m securing my hoodie, before putting on the next layer, she begins taking care of our dinner mess because we’re awesome and believe in that teamwork thing. By the time I return she’s not only changed into some sweats, and that t-shirt of mine that looks oh-so-good on her, but she’s also poured a couple glasses of wine. Obviously no movie marathon is complete without popcorn. I remove a pot from a lower cabinet, pour in some olive oil, and switch on a burner. Don’t act so surprised that I didn’t just throw a bag into the microwave and hit the ‘popcorn’ button. You have to respect your food and make it with such respect. By the time I return to the couch I’m carrying a tub of popcorn with the perfect proportions of cheddar, and kettle corn, seasoning with a hint of melted butter.
The credits are now nearly complete on the third film. The popcorn has been, more-or-less, devoured. Our wine glasses sit together, empty, on the floor. Glancing through the balcony door she notices that the snow is now tranquilly falling to the ground and recommends that we sit outside to enjoy it for a bit. I make a comment on how cold it is (below freezing). She counters by saying we can share a seat under one blanket, and bring out the remaining half-bottle of wine. I agree without hesitation.
The view from the balcony consists of a blanketed white landscape lit by a series of street lights running along side the street and strings of Christmas lights on neighing apartment buildings. After taking a pull from the wine bottle she nestles her head on my shoulder and hands it to me. After taking a swig myself I let out a relaxing sigh. She turns her head towards me, smiles, gives me a kiss on the neck, and lets out her own happy sigh. Four minutes total go by before she says she’s too cold and wants to go back inside.
At speeds that would even challenge The Flash she rushes into the apartment, slides the glass door shut and by the time I’m standing and facing the door, she locks it. Calmly standing in the cool elements I give her that “Really?” look we’re all familiar with. She stands there with the largest childish grin. It’s a great grin. How can I not like this woman? I try pleading with her. I try bribing her with promises. She doesn’t budge. At this point my ears are as red as Rudolph’s nose. Time has come to play the card that has a success rate of 83%. Puppy. Dog. Eyes. She says I’m not playing fair. This time I don’t budge until she finally cracks and unlocks the door.
By the time my shoes have been removed, and I’m sliding the balcony door shut, she has found a place to sit directly in front of the fireplace. Her hand pats the ground next to her while she gives me an over-exaggerated come hither look. I point at myself pretending to ask her non-verbally, “Me?”, and look over both of my shoulders. Shrugging said shoulders, I slowly make my way over with hands deep in my pockets pretending to be extremely embarrassed but flattered. We both snicker as I sit down next to her. She looks at my still red ears and genuinely feels bad for her joke. Looking into my eyes she makes cups with both of her hands and holds them over my ears.
We realize just how big of dorks we are. It works. I become lost in a trance as I watch the flicker of light from the fire reflect in her eyes. I can’t help notice just how beautiful she is. She returns with a look like she has just read my mind and knows I just called her beautiful.
Is that a vivid enough picture?
This is how my mind works. That’s why is sucks to be me, during the holidays, and single. I’ll be completely honest with you and admit that it can be a bit of a downer from time to time. It isn’t a lonely feeling. I’m not lonely. I am fortunate enough to have incredible people in my life. I live in a city where I have close friends, and even family, anywhere between 5 to 25 minutes away. There are even more close friends, and again family, only a mere phone call away. Then thanks to the powers of technology there are friends who are a mere key stroke away. It would be virtually impossible, and illogical, for me to even try and convince myself that I was alone. I’m never alone.
The present situation is, more or less, just frustrating. It’s frustrating because there’s so much inside that just wants to burst out.
So let me say it again, being single this time of year sucks.
Do I need someone in my life to make me happy, to make things feel complete? No.
But it sure as hell would be nice to have someone special to share all of this with.