It’s morning, before 7, there’s both fresh snow and fresh coffee. I was spent by 10 last night and fell asleep during Eli Stone, so I’m finishing it off before I begin the painful commute to work.
There’s a moment when, after a promising four-date relationship crumbles to dust, Eli says simply, “It’s not like I connect with a different woman every week. …The truth is, I’m lonely.”
I had a Fail Date Saturday. It’s complicated. I don’t really want to fill you in. But it was one of those second/third dates with promise that ends with a reality cheque you probably don’t feel like cashing, but the jig’s up, baby.
And normally I’d be fine with that, since I have this thing about not wasting my time in relationships I don’t think have legs. Even when it’s supposed to be “casual”, it gets complicated, and somebody always gets hurt.
But it’s Christmas. It’d be nice to have some snuggles and fun over the holidays. Would that really be so wrong? After all, I’ve got this hotter new body of mine that’s really going to waste here, and don’t even get me started on the new leather sofa or my new mattress set.
Lonely’s what we single types do at Christmas. I think it’s unavoidable. It’s like Mikey says in Tales of the City, there’s no day you wake up feeling more alone or single than Christmas Day, because, when you’re single, and you roll over Christmas Day morning, well, it’s just another day. There’s no one there to squeal “Merry Christmas!” at you. No, sorry, you are oh-so-decidedly alone. And there’s not even anything good on television.
I certainly talk a good game about how to embrace and not apologize for being single, and I’m still of that opinion: Being single’s great, there’s nothing wrong with deciding time alone works better, or that you’d rather focus on friends, self, and work.
But snuggling and hot cocoa on a chilly night? Not too many of us would turn that down.
I’ve certainly had my share of dates this year, and while I’m not making myself unavailable to the world at large any time soon thanks to the continued challenges and changes ahead in my Journey to the New Steff, I certainly understand where Eli’s coming from. I just don’t ‘connect’ with many guys.
The fact is, I’m as intimidating as all hell. Don’t think I don’t know it. I’d dumb myself down, but then I’d be attracting the wrong guys. I’m outspoken, funny, confident, articulate, pretty good at holding my own when things get physical, have a great home, do pretty much everything in my life with pretty good skill, and largely epitomize a strange paradox of the Laid-back Type A personality.
I am a handful. That’s not arrogance, it’s just fact. I know this about myself, and I know I scare the hell out of guys. It’s pretty lame. After all, I bite in only the most agreeable of ways. But it is what it is. I have a lot to offer, it shows, and I sometimes pay the price. Okay, often I pay it.
That’s all right, though. If they can’t handle it, they can’t handle it. I’m all right with that. I’m not going to be cutting my standards down any time soon, for precisely that reason.
Sooner or later some smart guy’s going to be exactly what I’ve been looking for, and he’s gonna be wowed that I didn’t get snapped up, that all these confused boys didn’t or couldn’t act on things. I know this. I’m confident. I get more and more eyes on the bus, more and more sidewalk chatter going on. Things will explode when I’ve got the time and energy to focus on dating, because I’ll ooze my appeal when I want to, this I know. BELIEVE ME, I’m confident about the dating thing. I’m just impatient that I have to go through so many boneheads first.
These days I just do the bare minimum with dating in the hopes that I can find some regular shagging, since I’m not really wanting the baggage of a full relationship. It’s the original sticky wicket. I want shagging, don’t like casual sex, and don’t want a relationship. Dammit.
This week, however, I’m lonely. I’m lonely because I’ve got a great Christmas tree, it’s cold outside, I’ve a beautiful leather sofa, and I have a hell of a lot inside to give. I’m lonely because I’ve met a fantastic weightloss milestone and would love to know what a nice taut boy body against mine feels like on this newly toned rack o’ me.
Next week, it’ll be fine. I have family coming for the holidays, and then I have a lot of living to catch up on when I’m off for 12 days. I have plenty to do, and even lazing around by myself appeals on this chilly snowy morning. Alone, a party of one, is fine — even if there’s a twinge of lonely licking my chops.
It’s good to acknowledge loneliness, though. It’s good to realize sometimes that you want others, or that they can offer something to your life you’re otherwise to do without. It keeps us human, keeps us honest. Life’s better when we’re invested in other peoples’ lives.
I would very much like to be sharing of myself this holiday season. But a girl’s still gotta have standards. I’ll enjoy my Christmas very, very much, with or without hanky-panky, because god knows I won’t be keeping this fabulous new ass of mine under wraps for long. Not when they get a load of this.
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