The cold is here upon us here in Philadelphia. Along with it comes some of the greatest comforts along with what are often some of the loneliest times. The simple pleasures of dark porter beers, flannel sheets, and all things hearty should be enough to propel us merrily through the holiday season but in a season of thankfulness with an aura of giving and sharing, what’s one to do when one is rolling solo?
It’s brutal out in the streets these days. Everyone is all bundled up and putting on winter weight from too much turkey and scotch. I know humans “store” fat for the winter but sheesh. It’s still 70 degrees in L.A. Fitness (La Fitness, C-ee-poo). I can’t tell the Belle’s from the beasts and what’s worse is that my wallet is not recession proof so I can’t even buy enough booze to stop caring which is which. All I really want to do is to get cozy with a cutie on a comfy couch by firelight whilst she whispers about how easy it would be to tie a person up with her scarf…hmmm above. But alas, all the ladies I meet seem to want to get an early running leap into the leaf pile of seasonal depression.
This period of time is also one that furnishes nostalgia. People come home from long hiatuses and reconnect with old friends, exes, jump-offs, f-buddies, crushes, unrequited loves, etc. Try this familiar holiday recipe on for size:
3 Years unspoken crush 4 Glasses double spiked cider (Special egg nog works too) 1 Warm apartment close by Sprinkle of holiday magic and a dash of desperation
And what do you get? A curious bedfellow in the morning. That’s the bottom line if you want to take the easy way out. Not I. I have taken it upon myself to procure a blind date for this weekend. A lovely friend of mine who is an excellent judge of date worthiness has set up a romantic interlude for yours truly this weekend. I don’t have much to report except that she is apparently cute, smart, and a good dresser. Good dresser? Hey at this point, I’m just curious to meet a single person left in this city with all a job and all their teeth.
I will let you know how it goes. Maybe I will have someone else’s stockings to hang by my chimney with care after all. Otherwise I may dip into the pool of the past and drown.