Eight Dateless Parties



my last foray into dating went awry, my usually optimistic mood hit a bit of a
slump.  I did what every woman (and
man) needs to do every now and then, I threw myself a pity party: I bought a
new bracelet, drank some wine, and devoured half a dozen Lindt chocolates.  With my trio of therapies wreaking
havoc on my ability to operate heavy machinery (you know how shopping can do
that to you), I collapsed on the couch ready to otherwise occupy my mind.  With the Christmas tree on, I decided
perhaps a little music might be just the thing to put me into a cheery mood, so
I tuned the tube into the Holiday Hits station.  The first song was a peppy little ditty entitled “All I
Want for Christmas.”  It
wasn’t about wanting an Xbox.  But
it was only one song.  The next:
“Let It Snow.”  If you
listen carefully the next line is “so I can get lucky.”  Great.  Song number three? 
“Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” which is just an updated version of
“Let It Snow”–no reading between the lines necessary.  Grrr.  I flipped the channel back to the television stations.  Music was not working, so I’d try
rotting my brain.  Hoping to find a
particularly gruesome episode of Bones or an all-night NCIS marathon, I ended
up lost in rerun central (the 200’s where I live).  And what was on the first station I stopped at?  A sappy holiday Hallmark special about
reuniting with a lost love.  I’m
sorry, did I miss the memo?  I
thought this was Christmastime not Valentine’s Day.  Isn’t this the holiday about that kid born to a virgin?  Last I knew peace on earth, goodwill to
men is not synonymous with getting a piece with a good well of men.

I was being a little sensitive.  I
was in full out pity-party mode at that point.  But the holiday season is full of images, songs, and movies
brimming with happy couples and love. 
And that’s fitting. 
Christmas is a time to appreciate the people in our lives who mean the
most to us, and for many people that goes beyond family and friends to include
spouses and significant others. 
But it’d be nice if there were a few images of a perfectly normal
thirty-something trimming the tree with his or her pet or perhaps some songs
about being single and content in front of fire.  Yet somehow “Kitty, It’s Cold Outside” sounds
pathetic.  Okay, perhaps as song
titles go, it is, but as a life-style, it’s not.  Only it’s hard to remember that some days when you’re being
cute-coupled to death.

worst holiday dilemma for a single person is by far the holiday party.  There’s always that little check box in
the RSVP that asks whether you’ll be one or two.  Sure, it’s the same for weddings, but they come
infrequently, especially once nearly all your friends are married, and at least
then you have the satisfaction of choosing the most expensive meal choice and
reasoning that you can skimp on the gift, because there’s only one of you to
buy it.  There are perks,
though.  Going it alone makes it
easy to decide who’s the designated driver–you are, always.  Great, because soberly meeting everyone
else’s spouse is bound to be better. 
The only saving grace in all this is that I’ve now attended enough of
these parties alone to have discovered the best kept secret of couples
everywhere: once they get in the door, most couples ditch their partners faster
than they forget their promise to be the one to stay sober.  Holiday parties and middle school
dances are rather similar in that sense; in both, the genders go their separate
ways until the final minutes when the males realize if they ever want to get
some, they need to appease the females for a least a few minutes by acting
mature and pretending they wouldn’t rather be home watching tv. 

cute-couple stuff may exist outside of music and television, but for the most
part in reality it remains tamer and a lot easier for a single girl to
swallow.  If the media wants to
mistletoe the single folks of the world into a holiday hole of despair, good
luck with that.  I’ve got parties
to attend–with real people who don’t spend too much time singing sexed-up
Christmas songs to their spouses, at least not in public.


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