The winter is a time for solitude, which is why I broke off several situationships last September in preparation for an introspective, reflective period of romantic hibernation. It worked like a charm: I focused on myself, finally started working towards my goals, and generally felt centered. But then, last week, the thing I had been dreading finally happened: it hit 60 degrees, the flowers started to bloom, and I have sexual tension with everyone again.
Why, Lord? Why must I be punished with this beguiling face and this sexy, sexy body?
Everyone knows that the second the weather gets nice, it is time to get emotionally and physically fucked. Much like a fox emerging from its burrow or a hummingbird returning to a now-bloomed seed, I can’t stop winking at boys with fluffy hair and girls with a bisexual vibe. I’ve also started smoking cigarettes to look cooler for the people with whom I will inevitably have sexual tension.
What the hell is happening?
Having sexual tension with absolutely everyone has ruined my life. I can’t even go to the grocery store anymore because I have an ongoing “will-they-won’t-they” relationship with every single cashier and any patron I pass in the aisles. An 80-year-old man and I reached for ranch dressing at the same time, and I had to excuse myself to the freezer aisle to “cool off.”
I thought I could stop having sexual tension with absolutely everyone by removing myself to a remote location in the wilderness, but along the way, I made brief, steaming hot eye contact with a wilderness ranger, a lodge operator, and also a bear. When I arrived at my remote Airbnb, the hostess asked if I needed a “key to the place,” but she said it in such a sultry voice that I was forced to add her to the “sexual tension” list, too. After a brief but torrid love affair, she left me to my solitude.
Sometimes I wonder if our love could have won out if I wasn’t so horny for the entire world.
After camping out for a week, I decided it was time to return home and crossed my fingers that I had spent enough time away that I would no longer have sexual tension with every waking person in a two-mile radius and the entire population of Jersey City.
Luckily, by the time I returned to the city, the weather had gotten way too hot for me to have sexual tension with anyone. “Calloo callay!” I yelled joyously, having been released from sexual tension in favor of a deep, sticky, sweat-stained repulsion. Yay!