For the Love of Snow

A few nights ago it started to snow while I was walking home from the office (an attempt to stick to my goal for at least a week). Tiny little specks, nothing much.

By the time I left the gym later on, they had turned into fat flakes, the fluffy wisps of snow cotton that float from the sky at their own wayward pace. Totally surrounding you like you're inside of a snow globe. Practically magical (especially for this southern girl).

I spent the rest of the night in my apartment, occasionally peaking out my window. Although winter is my least favorite season, I'll admit that sometimes it can be beautiful. And even though my neighborhood is not particularly scenic, the snow looked down right picturesque.

Pristine and crisp yet welcoming and comforting. For a brief minute, it's perfect.

And then soon after, it all began to change, just like every time it snows in the city.

Because the world interferes. People wake up, cars drive, shovels clear, and the trucks come in and haul the banks and drifts away like garbage.

What remains is immediately tainted by life, speckled with dirt and Lord knows what else. And little by little, it disappears, with the leftovers dissolving into icy, brown slush.

From royal icing to a coke slushi. Enjoyment downgrade on all accounts.

(Especially if you stick your foot in one of those fool-you-puddles, you know, where it totally looks like nothing and them boom you have hypothermia and a ruined day. Damn you curb moats, damn you.)

But eventually you get over it and move on, but by that point it's pretty much disappeared any way. You've forgotten about the joys and the headache of the experience, having switched focus to the current forecast.

Um, it has just dawned on me that the snow is a metaphor for my dating experience in the city.

Follow me on this one... My relationship track record:

OMG this is totally awesome and beautiful! It feels so surreal; I can't believe this is happening. I've never been happier. Oh wait why are you acting weird. What, sorry I'm busy maybe next week. And why is it you felt the need to tell me about someone else? I am miserable and annoyed. How did it all fall apart even though it started out great? Fine, whatever. Totally DTM. Duh, I've moved on. Wait what was his name again? Yes, yes I could be available to go out with your single guy friends.

Am I right?

Perhaps I should take this discovery and evaluate my approach to both winter survival and dating...

P dot S: While on my company's off-site last week I got to witness the most beautiful snow billow out of the sky for hours (thanks to my view out of a conference room window at an all-day internal strategic planning meeting). We stayed at a castle - technically a former summer home built just like one - and it was amazing. (Especially our celebratory dinner at Blue Hill at Stone Barn. Passed h'orderves and a ridiculous four-course meal? Yes please and thank you.) The accomodations were stellar, and the grounds could not have been more beautiful blanketed in white. And although I was a tiny bit worried we wouldn't be able to drive back in the city on Friday night, I couldn't help but falling in love with the snow. For real.

And I'm going to take that as a sign that maybe cold weather hasn't totally frozen off my ability to be in a relationship after all either. Woo hoo.