We assumed the whole “holiday break up epidemic” rhetoric was… just that. That the allegedly higher probability of couples splitting like wishbones from a turkey… if you’ll pardon the simile… around the holiday season was more of a Hollywood thing, and anecdotal urban myth more than a statistically solid phenomena…
Bridget Jones met her Mark at a Christmas party. Wearing that hideous “jumper” and all. She was a hot mess, yet he and she found themselves intrigued/compelled and, well… the rest is fictional history. Is this a universal love fantasy? That you’ll meet your one true love over a turkey carcass or passing a platter of latkes?
You are standing in a room. Paint it however you like. Change the lighting. Invite some furnishings. A lamp. A rug. Some music even. Make it relaxing. This is your safe haven. Ahhhh.
In the back of the room, there is a closet. The closet is filled with skeletons.
You hate the closet…
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