Half Hearted: Christmas Cheer... Really!

I fear I've misrepresented myself to my readers. I must seem like a never ending open wound of complaint and sadness. I mean, lets recap: love makes me nervous, heartbroken, and I've recently been lonely. Great, I've done a bang up job establishing I am exactly like every sad sack ever. But complaining isn't my whole life...only like 80% of it. So, to show my three dimensional nature, I turn my heartlight this week to a surprising aspect of my personality: I fucking love Christmas.

I wouldn't fault you for thinking I was a bit of a 'Kate Beringer' when it came to this treacly time, but no dear readers, no. This holiday mixes food, family and free cross-country flights. There's good TV, good movies, and a couple chances to be 'cool uncle Cam' with my friends’ children. Heck, this holiday isn't ashamed to bill Hugh Grant, Colin Firth, and Liam Neeson at the same level, so it has some weight.

Christmas is on my mind early due to recent cavalcades of parties, as my student friends travel to their respective homelands. On top of that, I was also treated to a festive soiree thrown by the dirty money flowing through the adult industry. Though my job must remain contractually undescribed (by punishment via the latex fist in my boss’ office I assume), the party fit perfectly with the rest. Beyond some 14A-level cleavage, there wasn't anything adult about it. Just hearty hugs, Starbucks gift cards, and candy canes for all. Christmas bringing the smut peddlers up to street level definitely warmed my heart’s blackened cockles.

But what does any of this have to do with dating? Well, a notable fact about each of these parties was I went without dates. And yet, the aforementioned cockle-warming still managed to punch through my near-teenage fog of ennui.

That made me realize that sometimes I don't mind being alone. Prior columns’ 'get past heartache' declarations have changed my life and, in a lot of ways, brought plenty of annoyance. It's not that I stopped feeling lonely watching TV on my couch on Sunday—that's still there. Going to these parties, though, was endlessly less taxing than the half-dates I've been recently subjecting myself to. I'll take a lone couch seat over a seat beside a fuming date force-watching the end of Another Stakeout any day.

Maybe that's what I like about Christmas. It's a holiday that can give a feeling of pleasant togetherness outside of romance. Valentine’s is for lovers, Thanksgiving is for meeting the new squeeze's family and we all know St. Patty's and Halloween are for fucking. Christmas, on the other hand, is a time you get hugs, candy, and warm feelings just for being you. Or, occasionally, for producing a larger amount of smut than your coworkers. At least all my readers can agree: any holiday that stops my complaining, through unselfconscious love or simply a mouthful of ham, is something that deserves a hearty celebration.

Next Time: Christmas in the land of -50 degree weather and Canada's largest aluminum bat.