‘Twas the holiday season and all through the city,
Twenty-somethings lined up in droves for theme bars, what a pity.
With $12 cocktails held tight in their grip,
Thoughts of family gatherings loomed, garnering an extra-long sip.
At the height of cuffing season, with most left un-cuffed,
It was time to start swiping for someone to cuddle with in the buff.
Swipe right for a nice smile, left for that man with the fish.
Someone who’s not going to ghost, is that too much to wish?
When lo, what is this? ‘You have a new match’ on my screen!
Should I message first, or would that seem too keen?
Oh, to hell with fake rules, the time is too near.
I’m going to get me what’s mine, there’s no time for fear!
“What are you up to tonight?” “Another holiday gathering.”
No time for love, just more small-talk and blathering.
And that’s how it goes, for 12 messages more.
Three parties, no free time, home for presents, then floor.
Maybe a quick coffee one morning, just to keep it alive?
Two weeks of just messaging? You know it’ll never survive.
“I can’t even do that, see, my sister’s in town.”
OK, well normally that’d be cute, now it’s just a letdown.
Tinder is out, but surely there’s someone around.
It’s the holiday season, shouldn’t hookups abound?
On second thought, no, although a hookup is nice.
I can’t tell that story at family dinner, well at least I can’t twice.
I hop on a flight, back to visit the fam,
with a few extra pounds, but still with no man.
Stay close to the punch bowl and away from my aunts,
no boyfriend, no kids, but a whole lot of plants.
It’s been, like, four days, should I message him now?
My brain still says no, but the drinks will allow.
OK, that was risky, but I hit send and it goes,
fall asleep near the tree while the star atop glows.
I awoke where I’d slept, right under the tree,
It’s going to be another ibuprofen breakfast for me.
The cookies are gone; I guess Santa went wild.
It’s holiday magic! That, or in my stomach they’re piled.
I remember my message from the previous night,
I decide not to look, and save myself from the fright.
I wake my younger siblings, still asleep in their beds.
Scream MERRY CHRISTMAS! to scare them, followed by a kiss on their heads.
I jump back on the plane, my city awaits,
full of hope and potential, SoulCycle, still no dates.
I decide I’ll delete Tinder; it’s been too much stress.
If this year taught me anything, it’s I’m still kind of a mess.
Out for a drink with friends, what in my peripheral do I see?
It’s that man from Tinder, and he’s walking toward me!
“I’m sorry I never responded, it’s not that I hadn’t seen.
“But could you maybe tell me, what does ‘MERG%JN CHRIM8LWS’ mean?”
