Pride season followed by (a kinda non-existent) summer led us to October when BAM it happens…
As you get the first whiff of a pumpkin-spice latte (oat, of course), as you think to yourself, ‘I’m not putting the heating on yet’, and as you consider how far in advance is considered normal behaviour to start buying Christmas presents — you get the text from the ex.
‘Hey, I was thinking about you”, or, if they’re really keen for the bean, you’ll have received, ‘You were in my dream last night and I just have to tell you about it!’. Classic. Look at what the cat dragged in.
This is the same ex who was out and about all summer, trying out jorts, uploading TikToks to the Billie verse of Guess, and who maybe, if pushed, remembered that they told you they loved you at some point. And yet here they are, still saved in your phone with a wee heart next to their initials, out of archive on Whatsapp, and you know that cuffing season is upon us.
Oh, the thought of spending a British winter in the throngs of sapphic romance. Recreating your own ‘The Holiday’ type love, but without the men part, and praying for snow when we all know the ice caps have melted.
Much like the 400m relay race, there are four months of winter that just don’t feel right to spend alone, right? September to December should be spent with someone, anyone, with a ‘this will never work’ break-up kiss on New Year’s. The drama of it all! And who easier to blindly run that relay race with than with your ex? No one does delusional like lesbians.
September is Leg One, the tentative reach-out, whether it’s you or them. Testing the waters of whether you’ve already cuffed or wrists are at the ready. October is the bedding-in phase during which the roots are planted, albeit in a shallow-based vase, and you begin Season One, Episode One of the L Word. November feels like things might actually work out this time, you’re walking around with a little skip in your step — but it’s just the new strap-on talking. And December goes by in a flash and all of a sudden, during the days between Christmas and New Year, the glamour begins to fade and the idea of a newly single, ‘new year, new me’ Instagram post sounds awfully enticing.
But here’s the thing. You could quite happily smash the relay race and
— Forrest Gump style — just keep on running. For you, cuffing season could quite happily last the rest of your life. You never wanted a single summer to begin with let alone a yuletide renaissance. You weren’t the one gallivanting across the Gay Village in cut-off denim, or up against the barriers screaming to the Sugababes at MCR Pride. That was them. You’ve been in therapy since May. You’ve been having ‘forget them sex’ with lookalike mascs and filling up journals with heartbreak poetry in their honour. You were ready for ‘I do’ not just ‘you’ll do’ for winter.
So sure, of course, it’s nice to spend this time of year bundled up like a caterpillar with your arms wrapped around somebody else. Of course, it’s nice knowing you’ll get at least one Christmas present that isn’t from your Mum. And that in the middle of the night, when your toes are cold, you can reach out to a warm soft someone, who’ll most likely bat you away like a small fly. That’s all very pleasant, sure!
But cuffing season is way more than simply sharing a glorified roast dinner on the 25th of December — for one of you at least, it could be love. And if
that baton is passed this month, you could be right back where you started, embarking on chasing short-term pleasure that ends in long-term pain. Not very merry if you ask me!
So, knowing where all of this could lead, knowing what these next few months could look like and how it could all end, do you really want to know what you got up to in their dream last night? Say it with me…
helenscott.com / @helenscottuk
