When I told you that I wanted to see other seasons, I wasn’t being coy. You are making me miserable. Stop hanging around my house, stop leaving presents on my doorstep and stop hassling my friends. It was all very romantic when you first showed up at the end of November, with your soft white snowfalls and crisp air. The flush you gave my cheeks was becoming; everyone said so. There were roaring fires and hot chocolate, glistening icicles and the promise of cross-country skiing, which you know I adore. You suggested I wear my beautiful new parka, and I did, and it made me feel cozy and safe.
But as the months wore on, things started to fall apart. Yeah, you snowed, but only when you felt like it— what am I supposed to do with six inches of powder on a Tuesday morning when I have to go to work? Why couldn’t you have snowed on the weekend instead?
Your mood swings became intolerable. You’d be sunny and bright all day, and then at dusk you’d grow frigid. “Wear the parka!” you’d howl at me. “YOU wear the stupid parka!” I wanted to yell back. I’m so sick of that thing. Do you know what a pain it is to bundle myself into what is basically an oversized oven mitt with arms every time I want to go outside?
Being with you was isolating. I like curling up on the couch and watching a movie as much as the next girl, but you wanted to keep me there every single night. Why did you have to make it so hard for me to spend time out with my friends?
More on this writer’s relationship with winter, on the next page…
I hate to say it, but you really let yourself go as well. Take a look in the mirror. See all that slush? No girl wants to wake up to that. And, by the way, being gritty doesn’t make you “real”—it just makes you unsanitary.
Call me a “grass is always greener” type, but I’m done with the hot chocolate and tobogganing trips. I want to wear
sandals and have picnics. I want to play beach volleyball. I want to have a little herb garden on my balcony. That stuff just isn’t “you.”
I think it would be good for both of us if you left town for a while. You could head some place where you’ll be appreciated…maybe Chile or Argentina. After the summer they’ve had, they’ll be dying for a cool guy like you to show up and lower the mercury. I’m not saying I never want to see you again; I’m just saying that, for now, I’m done.
I’m sorry if this sounds cold, but, to be fair, you started it.
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