Drink banana daiquiris until I’m blind

There is an amazing Prince song called “Another Lonely Christmas.” I know, yet another amazing Prince song, right?

But the little man sprinkled some extra special purple magic dust on this one. Maybe it’s the reverb-heavy production that makes it sound like the song is being recorded in the middle of a snowstorm outside in a field somewhere late at night, stars stars everywhere.

It will forever remind me of her. Let’s just call her M. M was the first girl I fell head over heels in completely irrational love with at the unfortunate young age of 15. If I could ever sufficiently tell the story of M and I, it would be the most beautifully tragic story since Romeo and Posh. There was a Christmas when her and I were in the middle of a(nother) huge row, and we didn’t talk the entire day. Of course I was all sad and shit.

The next day, I bought a 12-inch copy of Prince’s “Another Lonely Christmas” (it’s the b-side to the single for “I Would Die For You,” I think) and just left it on her doorstep.

God, we were such little drama queens.

Nothing nearly as fun this Christmas. Well, I guess that’s relative. Alternating between OG Kush, Jim Beam and cocaine, I definitely wasn’t feeling any pain. But other than the random people behind counters that sold me things, I did not physically interact with another human being at all yesterday. And that’s a first.

There’s always been at least a girl there to put on a dress and smile and make everything all sparkly and holiday-like. Without one, I was a complete, fucked up mess. Hm. That little itch should be telling you something.

Oh, and that movie He’s Just Not That Into You? Well. The whole Ben Affleck/Jennifer Anniston situation is the crux of my whole fucking problem. Whenever given the opportunity to step up and be a man and make some obnoxious, blatantly sincere gesture (thanks, Hollywood) to prove that yes, my sorry ass just might be worth hanging around for a while, I blow it. Every time. Which is why I spent Christmas 2009 in a drooling haze. And completely alone. Cuz in the end, I'm totally Bradley Cooper's character, just not nearly as effortlessly good-looking. Whatever, I'm at least a good two feet taller than that dude.

But.

It gave me a lot of time to think. Like, really think. And listen to The xx album so many times there are faint x’s over each of my eyes. While Prince no longer has any interest in soundtracking my personal drama, the kids are still alright.