I feel it coming, and I hate it. I squirm and tap my fingers and check my mail too often. Poignantly and perversely, the mail I do get has increased importance, in direct proportion to my need.
The need to be with someone. The desire to have a partner. The longing to share warm, cozy times with my man, like all the commercials portray. Like the couples I see walking down Main Street hand in hand, smiling with the joy of the season. There is so much love happening. Or at least it looks that way. Probably the same amount of love as always, it's just more in my face, like an unwanted missionary at my door.
I know that despite how happy a couple looks in that picture-perfect holiday scene, they are real people. There is strife where none appears to be. We've all heard the nightmare holiday get-together stories. No matter how clearly I see through the illusion, though, I still get sucked in. The beckoning of the fairy tale is strong. At that point, melancholy makes its entrance, soon followed by loneliness and longing, who wrap me in their sad embrace.
I deal. I run luxurious hot baths, eat great food and spend my time doing what I enjoy most. The only part of me that suffers is my heart. I tell myself the things I know are true. That it is far, far better to be alone than to be with the wrong person. That love will either happen or it won't, but I can still choose to be happy. And that I do indeed have the love of so many friends and family. All this helps to temper the melancholy a bit.
The end of the year is my time of reflection, when I take stock of where I am versus where I want to be. More importantly, I make plans about how I will get from where I am, to where I want to be.
The first and most obvious discrepancy between those two places is my relationship status. 2015 is right around the corner and here I am, still single. But making plans on how to change one's relationship status is an endeavor that has thwarted the brightest among us. You can't plan for love. You can't just make it happen because you want it.
If I could, I would make an outline and set up a schedule that would guarantee me what I most long for. A cozy, love-filled Christmas spent mostly in bed, with a man who wakes me up with a kiss, a long slow fuck, then brings us coffee, bacon and juice to share. The entire day would be ours, luxuriating in each other's company. Playing, talking, laughing, napping, fucking, cooking, eating and just being together.
So...Hey, Santa? After you're done with your gallivanting all over the world, what I'd really like for Christmas next year is that guy, the one I just described. I'm putting in my request early. And I have some questions for you.
Do I have to sit on your lap to get him?
Exactly how good do I have to be?
And, finally...precisely what is your definition of 'good'?
Because we could always try you sitting on my lap for a change. That might be interesting.