Let's be honest. For single people, holidays sometimes suck. I'm not a buzzkill who doesn't appreciate a couple days off work, nor am I against spreading good cheer and peace. But when you're on your own, special days like Thanksgiving and Christmas just aren't as great.
You see, there's a certain part of the holidays that invokes a feeling of "family". I'm grateful that I do have family, but not in the traditional sense. I don't have a loving wife with whom I can wake up on those days and see her smile. I don't have children that I can watch as they eagerly barrel down the stairs, practically running each other over as they scramble toward the Christmas tree to open their presents from Santa, and subsequently argue about whose is the best. I don't have a family of my own with whom I can share Thanksgiving dinner, then curl up on the couch watching TV and drinking wine while the kids play on the floor. For single people, holidays can actually be a bit depressing.
I certainly don't begrudge others for their happiness. Having a family, from what I've seen and been told, is one of the most wonderful feelings in the world, and I'm glad that most people in my life have experienced it. But I'd be lying if I didn't say a part of me felt a little jealous. Hearing the fun things that parents are doing with their babies, watching families in toy stores as their little ones grab every possible item from the shelves, and look up with those loving, innocent eyes and sheepishly say 'please?', endless postcards with pictures of smiling husbands, wives, and children adorned in their cheeriest holiday apparel with 'Season's Greetings From the So-and-So Family' printed in bright gold lettering...it's all endearing, but also a bit painful. It's a beautiful time of year...and also a stern reminder of what is lacking in my life.
I joke repeatedly about never wanting to get married. I laugh about children being little spawns of Satan. But those who are close to me know it's a facade. I don't enjoy being alone.
It definitely hasn't been due to a lack of trying. I go out periodically - different bars, different clubs, different social events. I watch the human activity around me and try to find that particular woman who engages my attention. I smile, I talk, I joke....and I fail miserably. You see, I'm not exactly the suave, cool cat, lady killer. I don't try to be. (I've made the attempt before, and usually end up looking more ridiculous than I do acting like myself.) It's no big surprise to anyone that I'm a geek - and I don't hide it very well in social encounters.
The range of responses is varied. Some smile back, some maybe even talk for a few moments, but I can usually tell by the look on their face that they'd much rather be somewhere else - perhaps in a dentist chair getting a root canal. And then there are women who just laugh. Not a genuine laugh inspired by something funny that I said. It's more of a 'how-can-someone-like-you-possibly-think-you-have-a-shot-with-someone-like-me' laugh. I'm almost ashamed to admit that it's happened, though I'd be even more ashamed if I admitted to you just how many times it's happened. And then, after a night of rejection and disappoinment, I end up being the single loser who sits at the bar discussing current events with the bartenders, who are even less interested in talking to me but do so out of a job-related obligation and hoping that I'll tip them graciously. (I usually do tip them. I appreciate their willingness to take a few moments out of their busy evening to chat, even if it is against their will.) In the end, I come up empty, with nothing to show for my night's endeavors except a lighter wallet, and occasionally a killer hangover.
And then the holidays approach. A joyful time to be close to the ones you love. Yet for all my attempts at making a true human, emotional connection, the only face I see when I wake up is that of my cat Finnegan, and I sometimes think his affection for me is only contingent on the fact that I'm the person who feeds him. He's a cat. He'd likely be just as affectionate to anyone else who fills his food bowl.
My holidays aren't completely empty. We spend time together as a family at my father's house, laughing and sharing in the spirit of the season. But even then, for those who have a family of their own, I listen to them as they regale us all with stories of waking up that morning and having breakfast together, going to church together, and all the things they plan to do together afterwards. And I know that, at the end of the evening, I'm going to be alone again. (Maybe that's why I never want to leave when I'm invited to others' houses...but I digress.) I'm truly happy for them - but also a bit annoyed at hearing it over and over each year, and having no such tales of my own to share.
Every year when the holidays roll around, I'm reminded that I've failed yet again to find that special someone. My age chronometer has tacked on one more number, and I have nothing to show for it in regards to finding my own family. Each time, my hopes of discovering that joy and happiness diminish. I haven't given up completely, but I think I need to stop trying so hard. Doing so just disappoints and depresses me even more.
I've been told that everyone has someone who is meant for them. I don't really believe that. I believe there are men and women in this world who are not meant to experience that emotion - and I'm starting to think that I'm one of those people.
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