I thought about you naked.

Then I put some clothes on and thought about you some more.

(Right about now my parents are probably cringing and wishing I didn’t blog.)

To the rest of you I recommend condoms to prevent any blogging children.

(This isn’t a real post, it’s more a bit of emotional release about the holidays, inspired in part by Hiker Mike’s post. I have a real, media-intense post on Slab City coming this week. I promise.)

This Christmas was bittersweet for me.

As my regular readers know, more often than not I’m quite content with being single. There are minuses, of course, but overall I enjoy it. (For more specifics, see: Ten Reasons Dating Sucks and Ten Things I Like About Being Single and Ten Things I Don’t.)

But sometimes I really miss being “one of two”.

That’s how Christmas was for me this year: I missed having someone with whom to share it.

For years as a teenager I dreamed of living in Malibu, right on the ocean. I often talked about it to my family.

Then it just happened. For a long time I got to live in/use a beautiful beach house in Malibu. Two, actually. Right. On. The. Beach. The private beach. There were fancy cars to drive, an incredible ocean view just steps from the door. Living there was all you can imagine: beautiful, luxurious, tranquil. And the bills weren’t even mine. (Way to manifest!!)

Did you know the ocean looks different every day? I didn’t until I got to see it out the massive plate-glass windows every day.

In all my dreaming/manifesting, it never occurred to me to add one thing: Having someone with whom to share it. Until I experienced it alone I never realized it wouldn’t mean nearly as much just by myself.

Sharing experiences with someone makes them all the richer. I had what I dreamed of, but without that someone special to enjoy the experience with me, it was nice but it was empty. Like an exquisite box that had very little inside.

As was Christmas.

Don’t get me wrong – I got to spend time with my two families and many friends and loved it. But one house was almost exclusively couples and I felt like a fifth wheel. The second house was almost all singles and I didn’t feel uncomfortable.

New Year’s Eve – The Proper Way To Ring In The New Year

New Year’s Eve is one of my favorite holidays. Not because anything special happens, although I love the new beginning it brings, but because it feels like a very romantic holiday to me. More so in some ways than (commercialized) Valentine’s Day.

I like to properly ring out the old year, and then after midnight, ring in the New Year. “Properly” means with a lot more than a kiss. Wicked shoes and new lingerie come to mind, but those also require sharing to reach their full potential.

Yup, it’s a romantic holiday for me – and the lucky guy I’m with.

When I’m with one.

Which isn’t now.

And that is why I’m thinking NYE will also feel as if someone or something is missing, just like Christmas. I plan to stay home and watch a movie with the cat rather than see couples kissing at midnight. Maybe I’ll go get pizza.

So here’s to all of you singletons who wish you had someone with whom to ring in the New Year – properly.

Happy New Year, my dear Kernutties! My hat is off to you! (and maybe more than my hat 😉 )