Now's the Time

This was going to be yesterday's rant!

Commercial holidays - I hate them. Except Halloween, but that's a different kind of holiday. I'm talking about the ones that occur between the end of November to about halfway through February. You know what I mean, the gathering-with-family and couples-only holidays. There's nothing like getting together with your family to remind you why you live apart. And I can't even take comfort in that last bit.

Don't get me wrong, I love my family. I enjoy spending holiday time with them. What I don't enjoy are the "Why are you not married" tones in everything they do around me. I can't do anything with the lot of them without it coming up at least once. I'm the failure in my generation. The only one who went to college, and the only one who still lives with Mom and Dad while 30 starts to rear it's ugly aging head.

Christmas time is the worst of it. Because what I don't get from my relatives I get from the advertising industry. Every commercial break, there's at least one "Diamonds are Forever" ad. And if it's not diamonds, it's a couple exchanging neatly wrapped shiny packages in front of a blazing fire, the picture of domestic bliss. It's all about what to get your honey or your kids or your in-laws. And why do you think I go with gift cards? Because it's a quick stop in the grocery store or the gas mart and all my shopping is done, without the endless sales tables piled high with things to buy your S.O.

Wait, New Years is pretty bad too. Whatever gathering, shindig, or hootenanny I go to will have me surrounded by happily coupled people who know they'll have a guaranteed smoochy when the ball drops. This leaves little single me rocking on my heels failing miserably to will time to pass faster for the crowd of two-headed monsters to detach. Sure, I get hugs, but that's secondary. I'm the afterthought, the one who gets told "you'll find someone this year" with pity-filled post-smooch voices. This is why I prefer the Twilight Zone Marathon on the SciFi Channel.

January has OBC's annual a-month-after-the-holiday-for-more-free-beer party. This is kind of fun, because I get to see the CEO drunk every year, and I was welcomed to be there even before I started working here. But everyone is allowed to bring a guest, and everyone is expected to be introduced to the person who owns the arm that you've got the hold of death on. Who do I bring? My friend, who happens to be both female and not my S.O. This creates new problems for me, because I have to explain to people who are expecting current or future domestic partners that it's perfectly ok for single adult females to take advantage of dancing and free beer and gambling with fake money. The difference this year is that my friend will get to tell me all about her new boyfriend over dinner and/or blackjack.
And speaking of the office, I also get the short end of the stick because I don't have to go out of town to visit in-laws, or take a week off while the kids are not in school. Coupled and kid-toting folks get holiday vacation priority. Leaving us single unattached and unburdened peeps to pick up the slack. Oh joy.

Do I even have to talk about February? Fluffy bears holding fluffier pink hearts, boxes full of chocolate covered calories, more diamonds. The day when if you're not coupled, you're not alive. Thank goodness this isn't a dinner with the fam kind of holiday, or I'd never hear the end of it. Crawling under a rock wouldn't save me from this most wretched day. What was I thinking? Christmas has nothing on this holiday.

It doesn't stop there, because then we have the fertility festivals, a plethora of coupling ceremony anniversaries, and then, inevitably, more diamonds. And I haven't even touched on the people who want to set me up with the stranger they sat next to on the airplane. Yup, there's nothing like the holiday season to make you hate your life.

It's ok, it's almost time for Probe 7, Over and Out.