Currently Seeking: Seasonal Boyfriend. [ +author notes. ]

I fell asleep to the sounds of rain and wind last night. Well, I fell asleep, then woke up going, “what the hell is that sound?” and then fell BACK asleep to it. In the beautiful Bay Area of California, that means it is officially winter. And while we’re on it, does this mean we get two falls next year? Cause uh, we got skipped. The first rain of winter washes away the dirt, debris and wreckage of summer, leaving behind a fresh, clean palette for a whole array of new mistakes. That’s right, the smell of wool coats and desperation is once again revived here in Oakland.

There are several distinct differences between seasonal dating. Summer is more a season for casual dates, flings, and overall maintaining that coveted “single” Facebook relationship status. Summer dating is easy. Everyone is wearing single layers, there’s more to do outside, and even without alcohol everyone just seems pleasantly intoxicated. People are more social during the summer; they want to get out, breathe fresh air, and meet new people. Summer is when there is baseball. Baseball dates are the best kind of non-committal dates ever. Kiss him if you want, blame it on the kiss cam. If you just want to be friends, punch him in the arm when there’s a home run and high five EVERYONE around you. He’ll work it out on his own.

Winter dating is a beast of an entirely different nature. Winter is more Ella Fitzgerald than summer’s Katy Perry. Winter presents challenges that stop those non-commitment oriented parties dead in their tracks. Date ideas are now indoor, intimate and more expensive. In a recession, a person really has to be sure he or she is interested before taking that step. What if the date is a dud? Did I really just drop $60 bucks on someone who doesn’t realize New Orleans isn’t a state? So the selection process has to last longer; it has more significant questions, and it’s all about reading between the lines. Because the state of New Orleans is actually only a tiny part of the conglomerate state of Louisiana.

Another thing about winter is this: it’s cold. You know what’s not cold? The human body. It operates comfortably at a cozy 98.6 degrees, unless it’s my human body, which rests annoyingly healthy at 96.4 degrees, rendering me the crazy chick that is always freezing. This is where that light aroma of desperation comes in, the need for human contact, if simply for the sole purpose of a walking, talking space heater. Sadly, I could do without the talking part more often than not, but I’ve never been able to get that amendment to pass in the relationship negotiation process. People are walking around, staring down potential hand warmers with intent and purpose practically leaking out of their pores. It’s true - people are sweating emotions left and right as soon as we roll those clocks back and break out the rain boots.

And let’s not forget the other enemy working against the single ladies and gents of the winter season: holidays. Dates to parties, holiday-oriented social gatherings. Being able to tell your uncle that you’re not single because of that really annoying way you end every sentence with “I’m just saying.” Having to be dressed up and socially involved after hours with your coworkers is bad enough, but going to those kind of gatherings alone is worse. Showing up to a work party by yourself totally ruins your cover of “it’s okay that I don’t talk to any of you here, because I have a super rad social life that fulfills me entirely.” In fact, now they just know that you would rather be alone than go to one of their stupid Sunday afternoon tea + sandwich parties. I like tea, and I love sandwiches, and I just didn’t want you slightly neurotic women to ruin either of them for me. No offense.

So that first rain falls and it’s a race against the clock. Find a boyfriend. Find a boyfriend. Find a boy that could be abstractly construed as your boyfriend, and cling to him for dear life until the sun stays in the sky past 5:30 pm. It doesn’t much matter if you love him, it doesn’t really even matter if you like him, just GET him. Bonus points if you can snag one that’s funny, because he’ll make the mandatory work social gatherings slightly less painful, and he might even want to see the same movies you do. But if you can’t find one that’s funny, try to find one that’s so attractive no one cares what he is saying.

What I think what you’re supposed to hold out for is that one guy. The one that gives you an “oh crap” feeling when you run into him unexpectedly on the street; the one that makes your heart race out of panic because this was a dialog you hadn’t rehearsed seventeen times while getting ready for work that morning. The one that makes you think, oh dang, I can’t feel my legs.

 I have one of those. The guy I always want to run into, but then panic when I do, turn the volume up on my iPod and make a sharp right into whatever store is next. Apparently I’m dissatisfied with my service at Verizon, and I’m thinking about switching to T-Mobile? He’s the guy that I will ramble about for hours if someone will listen. And yes, he’s tall and funny and covertly polite. [End gush.] What the rulebook says, and by rulebook, I mean “The Notebook,” is that I’m supposed to hold out for that guy. But what happens when that guy is an idiot and doesn’t get with the program by the right calendar date? I mean, how many times do you have to say, “I don’t much care for you,” before he finally accepts that you like him and asks you out?

Winter in the Bay Area is cold and wet and gray. You know what cures weather depression? A super cute boyfriend that brings you coffee and is always willing to watch Dexter with you. So I’m conflicted. It’s almost like I need a temp agency for boyfriends.

“I only need him for three-four months, so I can give Oblivious McTakesForever time to catch up to the inevitable and get with the picture here. Must be able to memorize coffee order, enjoy television crime dramas, and preferably types 65 GWAM.”

Yeah, I’ve fallen victim to the hype. I love hype. I’m all about hype. The same people that ranted about how jealous they were of my singledom in the summer are talking about winter and romantic crap and boyfriends and how great it all is, and the metaphorical tables have turned.  And while I’m sure “because it’s winter” probably isn’t a solid reason to jump into a relationship, lately I’ve been hard pressed to come up with a reason that is. For the record, “because I’m bored” got the ax, along with “because it’s Wednesday” and “because I’m poor and I want someone to buy me this purse.”

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Some notes: 

+ I am embarking on a couple new projects at the end of Twenty-Ten, thumbs down to all you two thousand and ten-ers, one of which is holiday cards. I'm a nerd for standard mail, as I get ever so disappointed when all I receive on a regular basis are bills, credit card applications, and most commonly, someone else's mail. A little piece of me dies every time I write "not this address." So I am extending an invite for all my readers to send me their addresses, don't worry, I only stalk within my own zip code. And whatever zip code Jake Gyllenhaal lives in, so if you're interested, e-mail me here with your info. 

+ I am often quoting that line from Julie & Julia, when Amy Adams is standing in her small apartment, one hand on her hip, the other pointing a butcher knife exasperatedly in her husband's general direction, and says, "I could write a blog. I have thoughts." Blogging is a hit-or-miss notion in today's society, because while it's true that anyone can do it, the ones that make it are not only well written, but also interactive. They encourage feedback, not one of my strongest qualities, and also pose questions for the readers to weigh in on. Well, that doesn't really sound like me, but I'm willing to give it a go. Starting in January, I will be tagging on an "Ask Eleanor [with caution]" section to each post. I will be posting a link on the left hand column with a link to contact me with questions, and I will do my best to answer them to the best of my cynical, sardonic abilities. So please write in, otherwise I'll just make up my own questions, and that's just sad.

+ On a more personal note, I will be attempting, for the first time in my whole life, making an étouffée all  by my onesies. It's all part of an elaborate pre-Harry Potter 7A dinner with a couple of friends, including my other favorite blogger m.holshev - and the chances of it going horribly, horribly wrong are hovering obscurely around 50%. All I'm saying is, come December 17, 2010 - check in on my twitter feed. I'll be documenting.