The colder it gets, the more you’ll hear the term “cuffing season.” Funnily enough, that term has come out of my mouth on multiple occasions. As winter approaches, so does the need for having someone to participate in all the cute festivities with.
It becomes almost instinctual to want to grab onto someone, even if you’re not fully sure why. There’s this unspoken pressure that floats in the air with the first snowfall: every holiday movie and every matching-pajama ad reminds you that you are meant to be paired off.
Suddenly, a drive at night or grabbing a hot drink seems like something that would mean more if someone’s hand was intertwined with yours.
The cold has a funny way of making you feel lonely and of bringing up all your negative emotions. Often times, we confuse this desire for comfort with genuine romantic interest. For whatever reason, loneliness feels heavier during this time.
A daunting realization I’ve made is that the season itself magnifies everything you were already avoiding. The silence feels louder, the nights feel longer and the world moves at a pace that forces you to sit with thoughts you’d rather outrun. Even the joy around you—the lights, the celebrations, the laughter—can make you feel more out of place when you don’t have someone next to you.
While you’re in college, it would be a lie to say that being romantically involved isn’t an expectation that is placed on you. Regardless of the title, the more you witness the people around you having and exploring romantic connections, its easy to question what you lack. The further away it seems, the easier it feels to develop a want for something. You start wondering if you’re missing out, or if everyone else has cracked some code you haven’t.
Recently, I caught myself falling into this stigma. When the lights go out, the air is still and my bones begin to ache, I grow curious. I used to have this theory that if I let someone hold me, hold my heart to warm it up, that same warmth would be enough to radiate throughout my entire body. So much so that I’d forget about the cold altogether.
After testing this theory recently, I wouldn’t recommend anyone else does. There’s a necessary line that should be drawn between comfort and connection. It is important to stress the difference between needing emotional comfort and wanting a romantic partner. When you blur those lines, you end up expecting depth from something shallow, and that only goes one way.
From personal experience, when you seek someone for comfort alone, you risk walking away from that situation freezing after they fail in their attempts. Cold in a way that has nothing to do with the season, and everything to do with realizing you asked someone to fill a space they were never meant to occupy.
The biggest takeaway from this should be that it’s okay to sit in your loneliness and find comfort in what you already have. At the same time, it’s human to crave connection and to want to understand yourself through the love you’re capable of giving.
Both things can exist at once. You can want closeness without rushing into the wrong arms. What matters most is recognizing that your well-being has to come first, even when the cold makes everything feel urgent.