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Writer's pictureAlexandria Rizik

ISSUE XIII SINGLE & SLEIGHING IT



Can I just say something? In the season of mistletoes and cuffing — or at least that’s what society tells us — are there more reasons to embrace your singlehood than to embrace another person? From saving money on gifts to avoiding that controlling mother-in-law who wonders where “the rest of your skirt is,” let’s talk about why this holiday season is the perfect time to celebrate flying solo.


Because trust me, I’ve done my time in the holiday dating trenches. And if you already have a significant other, fine — hold their hand, build a gingerbread house, whatever. But trying to date someone new during the holidays? That’s where chaos sneaks in wearing a Santa hat.


Take, for example, my own festive fiasco. It was two years ago, just after Thanksgiving. I’d started casually dating a guy — let’s call him Mistletoe. He was charming, had just the right amount of scruff, and could make an Old Fashioned that might just inspire a Taylor Swift song. Things were light and fun, like a Hallmark movie that hadn’t yet gone off the rails.


Then Christmas loomed. And so did Mistletoe’s not-so-subtle hints about “spending the holidays together.” Sounds cute, right? Wrong. This wasn’t some casual “let’s grab a peppermint mocha and stroll The Grove” situation. No, this man wanted me to meet his entire family on Christmas Eve in Malibu. Aunts, uncles, Grandma Marge, the works.


We’d known each other for a month. One. Month. And now I was supposed to make holiday small talk with Cousin Chad and navigate a Secret Santa that apparently involved a competitive edge sharper than his carving knife.


I tried to wiggle out of it, I really did. But when I hesitated, Mistletoe hit me with the classic passive-aggressive guilt trip: “It’s fine. I just thought you were different — someone who actually wanted something real.”


Cue the world’s most awkward silent night.


Unsurprisingly, Mistletoe and I didn’t make it to New Year’s Eve. Instead, I spent Christmas exactly where I was meant to be: on my couch, wine in hand, eating pizza, and watching The Holiday (which is a masterpiece, and I will not hear otherwise).


And that’s when it hit me: The holidays are stressful enough without throwing forced romance into the mix. Why contort yourself into someone else’s expectations just to avoid being single in December?


So, if you’re unattached this season, own it. Take yourself on a date to see the lights, book a solo spa day, or host a White Lotus-themed ugly sweater party with your besties. Because sometimes, the best gift you can give yourself is a little peace, a lot of pizza, and no forced PDA in front of Grandma Marge.


After all, Santa’s not the only one who gets to slay this season.



Xoxo,


Alexandria

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