by Liz Magee
|Oh what fun...--credit|
I am not about to go on about how great it is to be single in New York City this time of year. It’s not. Quite frankly, it sucks. Now more than ever you're longing for a cuddle buddy for those snowy Saturday nights when you stay in, order take-out and watch SNL as it airs.
Some will say “At least that’s one less gift you have to buy,” or “You'll have less traveling arrangements to sort out.” But in reality, you'd rather be out searching for that something that will make your beau giddy with glee, or contemplating the perfect dress that shows off your bangin’ bod, but is appropriate attire to wear when meeting his grandma who innocently has no idea what twerking is. But you know the line: You better not pout.
I have some wise words of wisdom that keep me from getting the blues around this time of year, or any time of the year for that matter: “I am not my dream person’s dream person yet.” (My best friend told me this. He’s the Will to my Grace, if you will.) I don’t know about you, but I feel pretty far away from where I want to be when I meet my "dream person." Because when I meet him, I want to have a strong sense of self, a plethora of life experiences under my belt, and the maturity level to really be able to be there for somebody else. I simply don’t have these things yet. There wasn’t any Black Friday special sale for a higher maturity level, so until then, I’ll be working on it piece by piece.
Having said this, everyone is allowed ONE night of drunken lamentations on being single in NYC this time of year. The countless advertisements depicting happy couples and numerous tourists swapping spit in front of the Rockefeller Christmas Tree are constant reminders that many of us are indeed, alone. So, yeah, one night of venting is okay. Just don’t let that venting be at your office holiday party.
Tourists treat this tree like one giant mistletoe. --credit
If you're single, in the “it’s complicated” phase with someone, or trudging through the battlegrounds of a breakup, I challenge you to have yourself a merry little Christmas. Or whatever it is you celebrate around this time. OWN IT. I don’t mean this in the selfish way of making your all-I-want-for-Christmas list long and known. Try doing something for yourself, or better yet, try doing something for someone else.
|Be your own Santa this season! (And don't forget the selfie) --credit|
Be a better gift-giver than Santa himself. There are few things more rewarding than when you find something that someone you love will love. Do something selfless and nice for someone else. Or, just do something completely silly and then laugh about it.
- My go-to for unique gifts is Etsy, which is basically Brooklyn online. You can purchase homemade gifts without having to face the wrath of the G train and an awkward interaction with a person who makes figurines of horses for a living.
- Host a holiday party. This could be as small as having a few close friends over for spiked hot chocolate, watching Love Actually, and then discussing which plot line of the film you actually love the most. (If you say none, you’re lying.)
- Think up some hilarious gag gifts and crack yourself up. Anonymously send someone a Chia pet, or a Shake-N-Weight.
- Show your roommate the claymation Rudolph because she somehow hasn’t seen it before.
|What a shiny nose.--credit|
- Call that person who you were just going to text or snapchat or yelp at, or whatever. Call him or her.
- Decorate! Last year my roommates and I put all of our old Metrocards and those books we haven’t touched since college to good use.
- Force your cat into a ridiculous costume and take a picture like I did last year.
- Make this year the year you volunteer at a shelter for an afternoon.
- Finally bring that big pile of clothes down to the nearest Salvation Army. Look up a coat drive to donate that jacket you haven’t touched in over a decade.
- Make a batch of cookies for your landlord. I may not always be able to understand my landlord due to a mild to moderate language barrier, but a “yum” is universal.