Listen, the holiday season can be tough on everybody for one reason or another, but in particular it imposes certain, additional pressures on the Singleton Community. For those of us who internally yearn for companionship and affection year round, we suddenly endure an added outer layer of stress in realizing we don't have a special someone to bring to family holiday dinners or to kiss at midnight on New Years Eve. Our focus frantically turns to finding a holiday party date, praying to sweet baby Jesus that our hot new Tinder match isn't just home for a visit, and worst of all- figuring out what the hell to do on said New Years Eve.
I came across a rather humorous, Bridget Jones' Diary-esque anecdote involving annoying family follies and a single gal's struggle to just stay afloat and not drown in the holy water during the holiday season. It was worthy of sharing on some kind of social media platform. Hence, the first installment of 'Misadventures' follows:
After a string of recent bad to worse blind dates- ranging from a guy who told Samantha that he could only live with small to medium sized dogs just as she was proudly producing a picture of Daisy, her beloved Great Dane, to a man who claimed he had a crow for a pet and shared that he felt safe knowing that a man loses most of his testosterone after getting married and therefore was glad he had dodged that bullet. Throw a couple teeny peenies in the mix and you get the drift. Needless to say, Samantha was feeling particularly forlorn about heading into the holiday season as a single woman with no plus one in sight.
Sam came from a large family who got together far too often for big, boisterous dinner parties, which centered solely around her perfect cousins' amazingly funny, advanced and perfect children (a perfectly sweet boy's boy and a perfect Disney Princess girl, obviously). All those family dinners did for Samantha was remind her that she had achieved none of that which was so glorified in her family; No perfect spouse. No perfect Disney children. No perfect house in the suburbs with the latest West Elm shit. So fun. Alas, one chilly winter morning she sleepily accepted an annual dinner invitation to celebrate the first night of Hanukkah with her entire family... at her grandmother's retirement home... across the toll bridge... during rush hour...A few days later, Samantha had been party to a lively discussion organizing a lovely GNO, boasting delicious food and wine and laughs shared with her besties- but it was to be on the same night as her family Hanukkah dinner which she had already RSVP'd. In her ongoing effort to "feed her soul" Samantha knew what she had to do: "redirect" her plans and enjoy a comforting evening surrounded by her girlfriends instead. As expected, Sam's mother was devastated that she would be missing out on the ninth family dinner of the month. With all the Jewish Guilt Gusto a mother has, her mom texted her the morning of the Family Hanukkah dinner saying that she was in the midst of doing damage control with Sam's Grandma-host of the Hanukkah party- who didn't know that Sam couldn't make it and was very disappointed. Then, in a last ditch effort to woo Samantha, her mother pointed out that it would be great if Sam could come anyway, at least for a drink, as she was to be seated next to.....drum roll...... Melvin Goldberg. Now, Melvin Goldberg was a 93 year old geriatric and apparently the cat's meow at the retirement home (hello, there's way more women than men at that age bracket!!). Apparently Melvin Goldberg was Grandma's new confidante (who was also somehow a distant cousin, but that's ok, they're not going to be reproducing or anything) who also happened to be a physician. Retired, according to her Gram. Since Samantha didn't have a significant other and therefore not achieved human status nor the free will of choosing her own seat at the family table, she was assigned the only odd place left- the seat next to Melvin Goldberg; a walker-toting, hearing aid-using, skin-falling-off-into-a-latka counterpart. Why did her matriarchs think that Melvin Goldberg would be the key to her happiness on that forsaken night? As if Samantha should be sooo super stoked to endure that honor, while the rest of her family members were #coupledup and losing each other in their dreidel-tinis. Samantha ignored her mother's text- as only a fully therapied, sane, thirty-something female can do- but knew she had to bite the bullet and call her Gram to confirm her cancellation. And so, she brazenly called her Gram who proceeded to let her know how disappointed she was that Samantha would not be able to join the gender-symmetrical table for Hanukkah dinner, as Sam was slated to sit next to Melvin Goldberg. And that- as Samantha quotes her Gram saying, "between the two of you, you have so much to talk about. Melvin was an Internist. He's retired now." "Was this a set-up (after all, Melvin is a Jewish Doctor) or a professional networking opportunity?", she thought. Samantha was a very successful medical sales consultant, but what's a career, without a husband anyway?
It just goes to show the holiday season can suck, families can mis-calculate and us Singletons should take Samantha's advice: always listen and feed our souls with what's best for us. Here's to GNOs, wine, pizza, and Dr. Melvin Goldberg, who I'm sure was a great catch in 1934.
*Disclaimer: the names of the characters in this story have been changed to protect their privacy.
