Single at Christmas

Hallmark movies may not approve, but I do.

I imagine that the “Good Advice For Single People” manual would recommend to avoid romantic hotspots like say, Paris, at Christmas. The manual would probably further advise against spending a lot of time with newlyweds. It may even contain a specific subsection explicitly encouraging the avoidance of newlyweds who did the deed in the same niche way as you once did (elopement to New York, FYI). But I never much was one for heeding good advice, and so I spent last weekend in the supposed most romantic city in the world, wandering down Avenue Montaigne with a couple still so high from their recent nuptials that I swear they exist in permanent cloud of what the kids might call big post-coital energy.

A 4 hour lunch at L’Avenue with the newlyweds. Can you feel the big post-coital energy?

Yes, I must hate myself with this act of self sabotage. Christmas inevitably stirs to life feelings within us that lie dormant for the rest of the year, even without a trip to Paris. All of the “what am I doing? who the hell am I?” stuff, among a pic‘n mix of shames: food, gift, turkey (too dry? again?).

A bit of longing for lost loves, and for future ones.

If I’m honest I’ve had a few sharp pangs of ‘ooo wouldn’t it be nice to feel something’ lately. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a someone to nudge in the direction of the handbag I have my eye on (this one - highly ridiculous, please someone say horrible things about it so I can abandon the notion), or wouldn’t it be nice to go for a meal and discuss our respective Karens from work over a glass of the mulled stuff. Or even leaving Christmas out if it, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to share the cost of a new London flat with…

I manage to drown these thoughts in reality, pushing them down with some force until there is no life in them, their clout swamped with matter of factness: I’m busy. I am a strong contender for worst friend in history given how far behind I am on all Watsapps, never mind making way for some new human distraction. I am between homes. I will be abroad for much of January. Now is not the time.

Yet when left to its own devices, the mind stubbornly hovers back over what is missing. The warm and fuzzies. The permutations of how life could be different if that chair wasn't empty, or if I hadn't chosen this over that… and this is where the inner monologue steps up for the key change.

Because the mind tends to airbrush out some truths. For example, I would be much less likely to go to a European city and dine out with two enchanting charming stylish gentlemen at the drop of a hat if I were more “settled”. Those newlyweds have asked me to participate - TO GIVE A SPEECH! - at their official celebration in Greece next year and for that my heart couldn’t be any more full. It is those moments that make my life full, more than the Christmases.

The warm and fuzzies are present too, if I look for them. For the first time in years I’ll be around to see my nieces and nephews in the direct aftermath of Santa’s visit. They will be thrilled to the point of hysteria, and so will I. These small humans, so secure, so free of neuroses that is baked into most adults, are a cleanser for the thought palate.

Me and Mr and Mr Fabulous, all with wine induced wonky eyes at 2am. Dinner in “Kong” btw - excellent.

So I’m extending that message to you, reader. It comes easily, at this time of year, to melancholically dwell on the don't haves - the tablescapes inspired by the domestic goddess du jour, good eyeliner, that handbag. To feel the bereavements acutely. Take this reminder that one day a year does not a life make. Families that look like they have the whole thing sussed may well be longing for someone else’s life. Indulge in what does the heart good, and let the challenges slide. Go easy on yourself until we are out the other side of this festive mayhem, only then trust your assessment as to how things are.

And for my fellow singletons, or even to those tempted to pity us: ‘Alone’ does not mean lonely, or loveless. ‘Alone’ has its own brand of precious romance; not a hallmark approved one, but one full of spontaneity and possibility, to be revelled in before, during and after the holiday season.

And on that note …a very happy festive season to you, lovely reader. Thank you for being here to read this, whatever it is, this year. You’ve brought me joy by doing so, and I hope I have in some small part reciprocated.

I’ll be back in the new year, if not before…

Until then

Big love

Una

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