It’s that joyous time of the year! The holidays are quickly passing us by and the upcoming family-oriented celebrations suggest all of three things: intense overeating, forced social interaction with people you thought you left in high school, and, of course, deep interrogations about your life from people including, but not limited to, your relatives!
Ah yes, these family gatherings are just what you craved in the midst of every mental breakdown you’ve experienced since the beginning of the semester. It’s only natural that you want to be around your loved ones and enjoy that well-deserved break from school. But, nonetheless, your Great Aunt Sally has other plans for you. It begins with something along the lines of “So how’s college?” Well, if you’ve must know, I’ve had several panic attacks and suffered severe anxiety while simultaneously dreading my eminent, yet uncertain, future. “It’s so awesome; I really love it.” And most of you are familiar with the rest: facial muscles become exhausted from all the unnecessary and incessant smiling and—just like that—you are back to worrying over the very thing you were trying to forget: school.
Except, in retrospect, I realize I’d much rather lie about my bright and successful collegiette journey thus far, completely settled in my intended major than answer this next question: “So, tell me…have you met anyone special at school?” Well, you know, there is this one lunch lady who gives me extra home fries in the morning. I think I’m her favorite. For the love of all things merciful, please euthanize me from this conversation. No, I have not met “anyone special.” *Don’t forget that smile* And, oddly, everyone’s reaction to this resembles the “I’m sorry for your loss” look. Excuse me, but I don’t want, nor do I deserve your pity. While I’m not necessarily righteous in my relationship status, I’m not wallowing in self-loathing either. I don’t need your sympathy! I’m not dying—I’m single. The response to this absence of young love is painfully redundant and artificial: “Oh good for you! Who needs them; it’s better to focus on your grades anyway.”
Is this your attempt to console me? Is this the part when you tell me it’s not as bad as I think it is? That we can get through this together? Newsfa-la-la-lash: I’m not battling a disease here. Don’t worry; alone and single is not contagious. And yet, even more, no matter how long they look at me with those “everything’s going to be ok” eyes, I see the disappointment—the sadness. I know they wanted me to return home with stories of the great romance I discovered in my time away at the University (or some other corny plot-line attributed to an epic college love story). You may be immune to my relationship status, but I am extremely susceptible to your insincerity. Please stand down. Alas, another holiday season will go by and, as of late, I will continue to receive the grieving stares of family and friends. But, hey, Hark that Herald; I have one less Christmas present to buy.
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