Small Country ostensibly has four distinct seasons, which is rather nice in theory. The truth is, spring and fall are surrendered to permaslush, so effectively they are merely the time when one waits and hopes for the proper weather to come. Truth be told, summer's been fun, but at this point I am just about ready for winter.
There may yet be a warm spell, but today is a very nice autumn day - sunny and dry, but cold. I've been fighting a minor sore throat for a couple days now, and that just adds to the effect. I've been fairly successful in keeping myself well-insulated these last couple of seasons, and yet mild sickness is a stable condition for myself, as it is for anyone living in these longitudes. Not that I mind: I've found that my mind works much better when my body is in a crisis. But even more pleasant is that the signs of impending winter point to the imminence of Christmas.
I'll admit it. I like the fantasy. Capital City is beautiful at Christmas time, decked out in lights and decorations, and Campustown isn't any worse, come to think of it. I've watched too many movies, I suppose, and I've been infected with the dream of a white Christmas. Heaps of snow, darkness, a log cabin, a fireplace, a tree - and someone to share it with. I don't have access to a log cabin, unfortunately, and December in Small Country is actually too early for snow most years. But it's the last bit that is the most depressing.
As a 21-year-old male, I am understandably obsessed with girls. The idea is that I should have sex on my mind all the time. Thing is... I don't. Well, sex is nice and all, but what I'm really after is companionship, and human warmth. Someone to sit next to in front of the fire on Christmas Eve, watching the logs crackle. Very few people actually know that side of me. I suppose I am a loner; the closest thing I have to a best friend is more of a drinking buddy, somebody to go out on the town with. The few people I've brought myself to confide in - and they are indeed very few, none of them family - tend to be inaccessible. (There is probably a corellation.)
So I have a problem with girls. I'm not the most eligible guy out there, nor the most handsome (although I don't think I'm a complete freak either), and if you met me in real life, you wouldn't guess that I have a lot of affection to give. It's not like I'm intimidated by the other gender, in fact my circle of acquaintances is heavily female-biased. I can't blame a single destructive event either - I've had my heart broken, and it was the most painful thing I've experienced by far, but the realization I've carried out of it was that the remote possibility is worth the inevitable devastation. And then, maybe I just haven't found the right girl yet - having known a true feeling and lost it, I can't be bothered to pursue meaningless flings. For other things, there's porn.
This post has gone off on quite a tangent, so before I disintegrate into protective cynicism and change my mind about clicking the 'Publish' button, let me end with the phrase that my subconscious has thrown out at me like a major league fastball, some time back, at a moment of particular vulnerability. I've been trying to decipher it, and I think I understand, though maybe not fully. Here it is, the characteristic of the relationship I long for:
It can't be like it is in the movies.