It’s a cliché that the holidays are the worst time of year to be single. I’m feeling that cliché more this year than ever before. Maybe because at 29 my Facebook feed feels like it’s exclusively engagement announcements. Maybe because I have more than a handful of friends who are happily married, several expecting babies. Maybe because this year, sleeping alone in my childhood bed on Christmas Eve felt colder than ever before.
Maybe because I’m actively trying not to be single and having no success.
There was the guy who claimed to be crazy about me but ghosted after 2 months. There was the guy who took me to the zoo on our first date and made me laugh, but the thought of kissing him made me cringe. There were several guys who were just boring. So, so boring. Maybe I’ll tell you more about some of those dates in following posts.
Right now I’ll tell you about the guy who was perfect. Who any mother would mother would be crazy about. The perfect plus one for any holiday party. Oh I tried really hard to like him. But that’s just not something that should ever be a struggle. Perfect on paper: a Harvard grad, in the last year of his residency, with the cutest dog ever, and an apartment on the UWS. He was adorable and sweet. Spontaneous even- he tried to surprise me for our second date. Too bad it’s hard to surprise me.
“How did you know?” he asked when I revealed it was easy to guess we were going ice skating.
“You texted me to wear socks and warm clothes!” Come on, Harvard, duh.
Had I been watching from a distance rather than living it, I would’ve thought we were the cutest couple. Adorable-as-fuck, happy. He held my hand as I toddled around the rink. He tried to teach me moves he’d learned on Harvard’s intermural hockey team. He put his hands on my waist and guided me around the rink Congo Line On Ice style. It should have been fun but instead I felt uncomfortable.
“You don’t trust me at all.” he said. NO! NO, I DON’T: the reply I refrained from speaking aloud.
It was the perfect, romantic New York Christmas date! I was trying really hard to enjoy it! And almost succeeding!
Then he kissed me. I suddenly understood the inspiration for the Dementors in Harry Potter. Were his lips cold or were they just chapped? Why was this kiss so horrible? It felt like it was sucking out my soul. Or at least my will to date.
Oh god, that’s so mean. But so honest.
Was this the moment I become so jaded I’m suspicious of all the perfect-on-paper-but-still-single people?
I hope not.
Fight the inclination toward being jaded? Is that my New Year’s Resolution?
If only it were that simple. See, the truth is there’s a little voice in the far recesses of my brain that whispers, “Why would a sweet, kind, Harvard grad, a doctor with a perfect dog and apartment on the UWS want to date you, anyway?”
My real New Year’s Resolution is to get that little voice to, well, FUCK OFF.
Banish it like it’s murderous Montague and I’m Shakespeare. #massivetheatregeek
Bomb it like it’s a bed bug and I’m a New York City apartment. #newyorkcliche
Destroy it like it’s the Death Star and I’m Star Wars. #popculturereference
It’s gonna take some work but that’s what New Year momentum is for. That’s right, Little Voice of Self Doubt, you’re days in 2016 are numbered.