Wintertime Love

14 Dec

A couple of weeks back I was chatting with a friend about our experiences of the dating scene, and they happened to suggest that this time of year is perfect for finding a potential mate. The colder, darker nights and run up to Christmas seem to encourage folk to put themselves back out there – something about new years and fresh starts.

A fair enough proposal, but one I was somewhat more cynical about. It strikes me that December and January are as likely to see a relationship end as to begin. After all, all that fresh meat must be coming from somewhere – I find it hard to believe they spend the entire year happy in a solitary state before bursting forth with the dying days of the current 365-day cycle.

I certainly wouldn’t encourage anyone to start a relationship in December. With Christmas looming there’s going to be an expectation for gift-giving at a time when you’re still just beginning to get to know your new beau. That’s potentially a lot of additional pressure. And spending small fortunes to impress and then being promptly dumped as January is ushered in is a rather bleak prospect.

I’m jaded though. My first ever girlfriend proper was a wintertime romance. We’d met I think in the September and were dating by October. Because she was my first its tempting to be a bit more rose-tinted about the whole affair. It was as intense as anything I’d experienced before and for six weeks or so we had (I thought) a great time. As December ushered in though she set off for foreign climes with her family, departing on a lingering kiss and promises to stay in touch.

I think I might have given her a letter before we parted. I wrote endless letters in those days, something I don’t do nearly enough now. At any rate, a week or so later I received the distinctive thin blue envelope of an Airmail delivery, and devoured the pages of teenage longing. It was all very positive, and I’ve still got the letter in a box of old correspondence somewhere.

I dutifully wrote back. Fortunately I don’t remember a huge deal of the content, but it was no doubt overdone with promises of love and commitment at a time when I didn’t fully understand the tinglings in my loins. It also didn’t help that I was very fond of quoting poems and song lyrics in my letters, often not really understanding the innuendo that was contained therein. I know that at least one lady received a note with bits of Monty Python’s “Sit on my Face” scribbled in my precise penmanship! Oh dear… I mean, I get it now, but then I didn’t understand. I can only apologise for my inadvertant smut-peddling retrospectively.

With that in mind, you won’t be surprised to know that when she came home I was met not with a “Honey, I’m home” phonecall, but instead a pronounced silence. I’m pretty sure I wrote back trying to get a response… In the end it was a mutual friend who let me know that I’d been quietly dumped. While all my friends copped off with her friends, I was left unspent on the reject pile.

So winter loves to me seem to be full of promise, excitement and anticipation, only to leave one dissatisfied. A bit like so many Christmas presents…

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One Response to “Wintertime Love”

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  1. Another solo Christmas  | The Sherlock Holmes English-speaking Vernacular - December 11, 2016

    […] set against the idea of winter affairs because they play out against the high pressures of Christmas and Valentine’s Day, skewing […]

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