The Intergalactic Business Report’s own dating and relationship expert, Tessa Miggs, tells our readers how to make their Christmas turn out like a Hallmark movie. See her column below:
Around this very special time of year, I always get the same question from friends, colleagues, and clients. They ask me, “Tess, what qualifies you to be a dating expert?” They usually follow this up with nasty barbs about how it’s stupid to give advice about romantic relationships when you’re someone who seems unequipped to have even simple emotional interactions with other human beings, and a whole lot of other nonsense. I usually take a breath, calm myself a bit, and reply with the classic: “Jealous much?”
My busy life as a dating expert certainly attracts a lot of haters who, in their personal misery, feel the need to criticize me just because I don’t have time for Christmas. Who does? I mean, I have dates to arrange, I’m working on a new app that lets you connect with your soul mate through an internet thing, and I have an assistant who isn’t as pretty as I am but who’s always saying shit like, “Tess, you need to find someone for yourself,” and “Can I please not work on Christmas again this year?” and also, “Is it even legal to make someone work 80 hours a week for gift cards to the Spaghetti Factory?”
“No, bitch, it isn’t.” I’m saying that to you. Not her. Because that would probably be illegal too. Anyway, it isn’t my problem that dumb Becky took a “job” with me when she graduated from community college. Could’ve been a hooker. Could’ve been a drug mule. Could’ve been a hooker drug mule. So, what I offer is mid-level Italian food from a chain that has pretty safe locations.
Enough about my assistant. Every Christmas, I’m overworked and stressed. I have kooky clients who want to find love, which makes this the best time of year… For business! Because all these saps fall for the allure of the holidays and mistletoe and sleigh rides in the snow. They want to fall in love. But I’m never falling for that. No, not me. Because I’m busy and I’m cold, but not in a good way like chestnuts roasting on an open fire. More like I’m just an ice-cold bitch who works too hard and is busy and then I meet this guy who looks like a male model and he’s super into Christmas because he’s a fool, but he’s so hot and he owns this hot chocolate company, and he hires me because he wants to find true love before Christmas.
Does that sound like the plot of a Hallmark movie? I know. Weird. So, I tell the guy, “Hal…” (His name is Hal). I say, “Hal, why don’t we talk about your situation over a couple drinks so you can explain more to me.” He totally falls for it, and pretty soon we’re at the Spaghetti Factory spending Becky’s salary on crappy wine and I’m grabbing his crotch under the table. Some dumb bitch waitress keeps asking if we’re going to order anything and I keep telling her we’re just drinking and she keeps telling me you can’t do that, so it’s a perfect excuse to get Hal back to my cold and empty apartment where I tell him I’ll cook him some spaghetti.
He's like, “We’re at the spaghetti factory. Why don’t we just get spaghetti here?” So, I have to spell it out for him and say, “By make you some spaghetti I mean have sex with you,” and then I’m so drunk that I grab his lips with my fingers and try to move them up and down while I pedantically say, “O.K. Tess, let’s go back to your apartment now.” It’s a weird move, I know. But I do it when I’m drunk so fuck off.
Hal’s like, “I think I better go,” and I’m like, “But this gift card is for like a hundred dollars and I have Becky’s Christmas bonus cards too. Let’s order more wine.”
He leaves, and it’s like one of those Hallmark movies where the guy hires a dating expert to help him find true love before Christmas because his wife died and he has a really adorable kid who asked for a new mom before December 25th and then he meets a sassy business lady (me) and they fuck all night at her apartment except they don’t because Hal is gay or something.
That’s real life. Gay guys. People like Hal. Spaghetti Factory waitresses. Make a movie about that, motherfuckers. Anyway, it’s two days before Christmas and I guess I’m going to spend the evening just drinking wine by myself and thinking about the time my dead dad told me that Christmas was for suckers and that true love was a myth created by the ad industry.
Wait a second. Someone’s knocking at the door. I think it’s Hal, here to apologize for leaving so abruptly. Nope. It’s my next-door neighbor Herman, who looks like an extra on a 70’s porn set. I guess tonight he’ll get a starring role. Nope. I just threw up. Probably because my brain just imagined what I was planning to do with Herman. Another Christmas passing me by. Another chance at love, wasted. I need to call Becky and get her over here to clean this shit up.
Tessa Miggs is the relationship and dating expert for the Intergalactic Business Report. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org
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