The December Men

They waken from their tryptophan slumber, their reckless football dreams, the raking of old leaves and face themselves alone in the mirror, whiskers their only company. They are too alone and must now try to fix this. Below their weary watchfulness, the mounted defenses, the gates and fences, something lives and each must get his heart touched before the end of the year, else he shall perish. What else could explain the frantic cattle drive of men lowing their courtship songs, steam rising from their backs as they move through the dating sites, clicking, swiping, emailing, coffee-dating? It isn’t the office party, or the family dinner table, or the malls and churches and theaters and Messiah

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