I haven’t written you a letter since I was 14, but desperate times call for desperate measures, Santa. So here I am, not asking for an iPod, or whatever else was on my wish list back then. This year, I’m asking for something a little more complicated: someone to make my holiday season (and maybe my 2025) way more interesting.
Here’s what I’m hoping you’ll put under my tree this year:
A guy in his late thirties, single, with a sense of humor that rivals my own and a smile that could make me forget about a Rangers game — or at least cheer me up when they inevitably lose, again.
Someone who knows how to handle sass, wits, and flirty banter (bonus points if he can dish it out too).
Someone who’ll dance with me even if it’s just to humor me, agree that pineapple on pizza is a crime, and won’t vanish like a ghost of Christmas past after a few messages (seriously, Santa, we’ve got to stop that trend).
If you’ve got someone in your workshop (or, you know, on Earth) who fits the bill, let him know he can write saying hi, including his name, age, what he looks like.
And if no one fits the bill, I’ll settle for a plane ticket to Tahiti and unlimited piña coladas. Or the Rangers winning the Stanley Cup this season. Your choice; but I think the guy might be more realistic.
No pressure, big guy. But here’s hoping you’ll come through this year.
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