Christmas Night Musings of Aloneness, a la Bridget Jones

(Ed. Note: In my semi-drunken/contented state last evening, I wrote this and spontaneously published it without editing it. I awoke, and suddenly thought “what have I done?” and then saved as draft, suspecting I might’ve been too open. I’ve since received some very thoughtful, considerate emails, which leaves me thinking I should keep it up… although I’m not too comfortable with that, but it’s really great to get comments like those. Thanks. If you interpret this to think I’m really lonely, then don’t — I’m not. I’m just aware of my aloneness, and that’s an altogether different matter. Without further ado…)
Steff is drunk. Why, a Christmas tradition, no? GayBoy and I get together each Xmas eve to drink, and eat, and be merry, and to watch an “anti-Xmas Xmas movie.” What is that, you ask? A film that contains Christmas, but is not about it. For example, Gremlins, Die Hard, etc. This year? Bridget Jones’ Diary.
Some days, I feel like Bridget Jones. I belt out alongside classic “Ain’t you lovin’ me yet” type songs, just like Bridget. I flap my lips and say the most inappropriate things at the worst times, oh, so fucking often, really. “Flippant” is an adjective which often precedes my name. I have gotten into boatloads of trouble for saying what occurs to me in each and every job I’ve ever held. I watch cheesy films, drink a little (much), and sometimes wallow in my singleness. I often deliberate before a date about whether it will result in getting laid, and whether I should wear the sexy panties, or the “granny” panties that will hide my figure under my clothes, but be oh, so unattractive should said clothes be peeled off in a heavy makeout session on the floor.
BJD is one of those “time of the month” classics with obscene insights into the single girl. I remember working in the bookstore, and whenever someone was looking for a gift for a 25-40ish woman, I’d simply open the book to any random page, scan it, read a short snippet, and presto, sold. Why? Because it’s true. Because as many good things there are about being single, there’s ultimately something shitty about not having a warm body next to you in bed. That’s not pessimism or cynicism, it’s realism. There’s something blissful about having warm skin within reach when you’re under the covers, and we all know it. That smell, that feel, that knowledge… it’s all so very good.
And there’s no worse morning to wake alone than on Christmas, as Armistead Maupin wrote in his San Fran classics, Tales of the City. But you know what? 24 hours passes, and it’s Boxing Day. Presto, life goes on.
Although there’s nothing I want more than to not be single right now, I have to say, I’m all right with it. I’d love to wake up on Christmas with some 6’+ god of sinewy pleasure lying next to me, with an orgasm on order, but there’s something appealing about rolling out of bed on my own, to a hot bath and a pot of coffee, and not one iota of bullshit to deal with, lazy clothes at hand, and the ability to be my “worst” self on a day that really deserves laziness.
You all read this blog for whatever reason you’ve found to be here, and that’s great. Welcome to it. I write it for my own reasons. In a lot of ways, this is a journey to a new place for me, regardless of where I’ve been before. That place isn’t really something I’m comfortable sharing as of yet, and I’m proud that I know where to draw the line when it comes to divulging the secrets of Steff, despite my quest to become vulnerable at will during this past year.
I’m caught up in the spirit of what I consider to be this season, that of self-reflection, but also, that of willing change — what with New Years and its resolutions fast on our heels. While I’ve been reflecting plenty on here of late, there’s been far more screaming in my mind that I’ve kept to myself, and will continue to do so, for the short-term, at least.
Whatever the stressors, whatever the frustrations, there’s something unforgettable that I love about this season, single or not. I love the feeling of being conscious of my values, of knowing my wants, my needs. I love the spirit of giving that comes this time of year. I’d love to share that giving in every way with a man who deserves a little getting, but since I can’t, I’ll have a hot bath instead, and maybe indulge some dirty thoughts I’ve been nursing.
And y’know what? That’ll be just fine.

11 thoughts on “Christmas Night Musings of Aloneness, a la Bridget Jones

  1. scribe called steff

    g — and you. πŸ™‚ thanks.

    j — glad you enjoyed it. season’s best to you. πŸ™‚

    tsb — likewise! ho-dee-ho-dee-ho. πŸ™‚

  2. Anonymous

    Hear, hear! Excellent post. I’ve been in the same boat for a number of years and feel pretty much the same way.

    Although this year, in somewhat of a Christmas miracle, I have, not one, but two 6′ potential gods of sinewy pleasure vying for my attention. Well, sort of vying… kinda… they’re not really that sinewy, but they’re talking to me, okay? It’s early days. And that’s more potential action than I’ve seen ina while. So there’s hope for us all, apparently.

    And there’s always Bridget’s tipple of choice – vodka. Happy New Year!
    D.

  3. sartre

    An intriguing post. Is the screaming based on anger or frustration, or both? Not that you should tell us, it just may be healthy for you to identify those demons and fight them.

    Whatever it takes to get your creative juices flowing, I think you deserve it. Your honesty is very refreshing, and ultimately, that is what seals the deal between a scribe and reader.

    Holiday Wishes for Steff :>
    Oils and hot creams, among other wet things, hard kisses and sharp stings, making true her wistful dreams.

  4. scribe called steff

    Anon — Send one my way! Glad you enjoyed that. I sort of enjoy my Christmases quiet and lonely, myself, since the season tends to drive me fucking mad with all the pressures and demands on my time, and all the external stressors. To just close the blinds, bundle up with a blanket, and forget the world can be a really pleasant thing, especially when it just seems like the world’s quieter and more conducive to those Silent Nights the carolers are always yammering on about.

    Sartre — What screaming? Did I miss something? I know my demons, and don’t always wish to share them. For me, honesty is a striptease. Every little now and then, a little somethin’ else gets peeled away. To do it all at once loses its appeal. I’d rather reveal myself slower for y’all, plus the journey of discovery doesn’t come in a fell swoop, anyhow, right? I might be done with the honesty bit for a stretch, since I aim to tackle some other topics for a bit. Self-examination wears thin sometimes. πŸ™‚

    I like your holiday wishes. I have some wishes of my own. I have some definite sex life prospects, but right now I’m nursing a fucked-up back and I’m in a lot of pain. I doubt the missionary position’s gonna be helping, but if you know any good masseuses, y’know, I’m a willing victim.

  5. sartre

    “…there’s been far more screaming in my mind that I’ve kept to myself” This is what I was referring to. Maybe I read too much into it, a bit of a habit for me.

    Yoga is supposed to help with back pain, from what I have heard.

  6. scribe called steff

    Oh, right… Yes, reading too much into it — just a dramatic word choice on my part. I like dramatic words.

    I’ve put my back out with yoga before. Weights, cycling, they do my back well. This is just the result of getting back into exercise and my body saying, “Well you shouldn’t have STOPPED, should you have?”

    One day, I’ll learn.

  7. Southern

    As a male reader Steff, I learn more about the female mind from reading your posts. I was single 6 years between marriages and remember the early years of the breakup, the holidays being tough times. Later I came to be comfortable with the change, to being single, around the holidays and using the time differently, as I was seeing a women who lived a few hours away by airplane. I also knew inside, that ultimately we weren’t headed to being a couple, partly because of the distance.

    I’m older now, the perspective is different, people in my life take on different roles.

    Hope the new year brings new adventures for you and that your back is feeling better.

  8. scribe called steff

    Southern — I’m glad I can shed a little light on the weirdness of the female mind for you.

    My back’s officially all better, thanks. πŸ™‚

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