Wintertime is one of those things that I’ve come to like. At first, I liked it just because of Christmas, which is reason enough to accept winter. However, when I got into about college is when I started liking it.
Winter has this enchantment attached to it. In the summer time, all you want to do is run, frolic and play. Not so in winter if you live somewhere where winters are actually cold. It’s a time where you try to stay warm, which produces all sorts of romantic and snuggly images: hot chocolate, a fireplace, beautiful snow, a sweetheart, perhaps…
Christmastime has that same effect on me. I think of the gaiety associated with parties, the spirit of giving, and that overall magical feeling that comes with Christmas. Having said that… I always wanted a man for Christmas.
That might be hilarious to some people because you didn’t expect that answer, but you know what? Santa had plenty of time to make good on that one! Even BEFORE I got interested in men, he had time. I’m almost 30, and still ain’t got a man! Not cool Santa, not cool (and believe me, I’ve asked more than once!).
Every year around this time, I want a man for Christmas… because my mind tends to drift into the silly dream I have of being kissed underneath the mistletoe. I know that’s something that isn’t a big deal, but it was always very romantic and sweet to me; and it’s the sort of thing that you can only get away with on Christmas.
I also tend to want to “have my love to keep me warm” like the one person does in that song. We can sit by the fireplace and snuggle with hot chocolate under a blanket in a cabin in the mountains. Heck, let’s add some snow into this image as well. You simply can’t do stuff like that when it’s warm outside; if it gets hot enough, who wants to be touched? Not I… you know, never mind. I’m a very snuggly gal; I would probably try to snuggle up to my guy even when it was hot. It’s just more comfortable when it’s cold.
Every Christmas, I’m looking like this guy:
And every Christmas comes and goes, with me still manless and now with sad face because I still didn’t get that kiss.
One day, I hope I’ll be kissing under the mistletoe and not praying for a miracle underneath of it, like I do every year.