It’s been eight years in a row that I haven’t been in a relationship at Christmas, and I honestly have no idea why at this point. I mean…

Why is love so hard to find, and why is it even harder to hold onto for some people?

I’m a pretty damn chillax, nice guy in relationships.

I barely am a turd at all.

Barely.

I’m still a romantic. I like to spoil my girl. I like to bring her flowers. I like to be well-mannered and easy-going. I’m talkative, and engaging, and a good listener.

I’m telling you, I’m *barely* a turd.

Barely.

I think I’m relatively good looking.

I’m successful.

I’m funny as hell, and I’m okay saying that.

I am always open to love and dating and not just sleeping around.

And I’m barely a turd.

Barely.

Like, just the tiniest bit of a turd.



I’m a very dedicated and good dad. I think before I parent. I spend quality time with my kid. I don’t helicopter.

I’m barely a turd as a parent.

Barely.

I’ve developed feelings a couple times for a couple different women this year. I thought it was going awesomely with both. Then it was the same thing from each, after I finally told them I was looking for something more serious… “I’m not,” they say. “I’m working on myself,” they say. “I’m just not at that place in life,” they tell me.

“Okay,” I tell ’em. Then I bail. Because I don’t ever fight for love to exist where it doesn’t naturally.

Eight years now.

Eight Christmases.

I’m barely a turd.

Like, barely, barely.

Except when you wake me up for no good reason. Then I’m a huge turd for anywhere from three seconds to two hours, but that’s not actually me being a turd. That’s some ogre that takes over my brain until the real me actually does find consciousness.

Eight years.

Eight Christmases.



So… I’ve had all these airline miles forever. I’ve been saving them to go somewhere super warm, where there are crystal clear blue waters, and where people bring alcoholic drinks with umbrellas in them. But I don’t want to go alone. I don’t want to waste the miles on my kid, either. He’s spoiled enough and we have plenty of vacations. (Hey, I told you I was barely a parenting turd.) Nope. I’ve been saving these airline miles, which stack higher and higher every year, to go somewhere truly amazing with someone one winter.

Winter…

Where the sun disappears every day almost a quickly as it appears.

Where the sun teases this side of the Earth, pretending it’s there at all, when really it’s not. I don’t know what that bright thing is in the sky, because it’s not the sun.

Yes, winter…

Where everything turns gray and gloomy.

Where we as people have to actively fill our world with colors and light so that we can pretend it’s not gray and gloomy.

The sun is such a giant turd in winter, that’s for sure.

Every year I don’t spend my miles and go on my vacation because… Next year. Next year surely I’ll have found someone. Next year surely I’ll break the curse. Next year… Next year… Next year…

“Be happy being alone!” people say.

It’s such bullshit. People who say that don’t understand what loneliness actually is.

Loneliness isn’t feelings of worthlessness. Loneliness isn’t an intolerance for solitude. Loneliness is emptiness.

Loneliness is the awareness of the void which now exists that was once filled with something or someone. That’s all loneliness is. It’s feeling that void. It’s trying to avoid that void. It’s trying to keep it filled with other things.

But those voids can’t be filled. Never completely.



I can fill my life with everything I possibly can in my attempts to try. I can fill that void with hobbies, and art, and friends, and first dates, and family, and my kid, and my dog, and even TV. I can forget that void exists most of the time, but then…

When there is just the smallest moment where I forget to stay busy…

And the room is quiet…

And it’s just me…

And a thought of the past sneaks its way in while I’m not paying attention…

Loneliness suddenly exists again.

Those thoughts of the past are huge turds.

Ever seen “Inside Out?” Of course you have. When sadness touches that happy core memory and it suddenly turns sad…

That’s loneliness.

That’s all loneliness is.

It’s not people feeling miserable being single. It’s not me feeling miserable being single. So get that out of your damn minds already.

Sigh.

Eight years.

Eight Christmases.

Still single. And I honestly have no idea why at this point.

I mean… I’m barely a turd at all.

Dan Pearce | The Single Dad Laughing Blog

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Dan Pearce is an American-born author, app developer, photographer, and artist. This blog, Single Dad Laughing, is what he's most known for, with more than 2 million daily subscribers as of 2017. Pearce writes mostly humorous and introspective works, as well as his musings which span from fatherhood, to dating, to life, to the people and dynamics of society. Single Dad Laughing is much more than a blog. It's an incredible community of people just being real and awesome together!