I’m very 2015 when it comes to romance, meaning my standards are pretty low. Taking me someplace that offers unlimited refills on Diet Pepsi is essentially the real life equivalent of meeting me at the top of the Empire State Building at midnight on Valentine’s Day. In a world of late night booty calls and unwanted dick pics, I consider a guy to be a ‘gentleman’ if he uses proper grammar and remains fully clothed throughout our date.
However, at Christmas, my expectations take a sleigh ride to the next level.
The fact that there’s an entire holiday celebrating a virgin becoming pregnant without having sex makes me believe that at Christmas, anything is possible. This includes the possibility that your crush will magically appear at your doorstep on Christmas Eve to proclaim his or her undying love.
The year’s winding down, the romantic comedies are airing on Lifetime and the W Network, Mariah Carey is still singing at that pitch only the neighbourhood dogs can hear, and all of a sudden, you’re fantasizing about PG, first base, over the shirt stuff.
This is my first Christmas as a single lady in a few years, and I’m happy with my relationship status. It’s my choice to be solo right now, and do the ol’ personal inventory and figure out what I’m looking for.
That being said, I’ve still got this secret desire that I’ll be wearing my cowl neck cream coloured holiday sweater, I’ll have finally learned how to contour my nose, I’ll be just about to crack open a bottle of wine and break my sobriety-ish vow when there will be a knock at the front door. I answer the door to see snow gently falling and an out of breath Stud wearing a turtleneck, but I’ll let it go because it’s Christmas and I can’t be picky right now.
I’ll feign surprise, “What’re you doing here! My word!”
Then he’ll say, “My car broke down so I ran here.”
Aw, he has a car. But it’s broken. Regardless, I’ll be batting my eyelashes, “Studly, what’s going on?”
And then bam, he hits you with the good moves…and all of a sudden….
But he verbalizes it. Says it out loud, like an articulate, emotionally available winner.
Then he’ll tell me that he was in a dark place on a bridge, and an angel will appear and show him what life would have been like if he had never been born. I’ll say this all sounds terribly familiar, but I’ll encourage him to keep going, because this is disrupting my quiet evening at home with mother #GreyGardens.
He’ll say the angel said that if he was never born, I would be home alone on Christmas Eve with two men trying to rob my house and nobody would be there to save me.
That’s when he realized he would be heartbroken if I died, because he’s been in love with me from the moment we met and it’s OK that I cuss like a sailor, can’t cook to save my life, and am probably never going to make my target weight.
Then he’ll dip me dramatically and kiss me, and we’ll live happily ever after or for at least two years because that’s my track record.
Totally possible, right?
Am I the only one who feels this way, or do you find the holidays incredibly romantic as well?