Urban Thought Collective

What did I wish for this Christmas? Aside from the standard stuff – like a new Prada bag or a pair of 4-inch tall Christian Louboutin shoes – there was something I was really hoping to get. So far, it’s proven harder to score than a Wii Fit or a lead-free toy made in China. This thing I’ve been coveting is priceless really, but I’m willing to shell out cash, money orders, checks, and collector’s edition Barack Obama coins…anything of value to get it. This now seemingly impossible-to-obtain thing.

Now, don’t roll your eyes or guffaw too loudly when you find out what it is. And neither should you take out your violin and belt out a sad little tune in my honor. (Sigh…here it goes) All I’ve been dreaming of this holiday season is a New Year’s kiss. A succulent, memorable, spine-tingling New Year’s kiss delivered expressly to me when that ball drops at midnight.

Since Jonathan and I broke up last month, all I’ve been able to dwell on is how lonely and miserable my holidays would be. Once the advent countdown began, I didn’t pin too much hope on snagging a brand new boyfriend in time to be invited to his parents’ home for Christmas dinner, where we’d exchange overpriced gifts while sipping eggnog under a sprig of mistletoe. Needless to say, Christmas came and went without Santa dropping any slobber-swapping prospects off in front of my fake tree, despite the double chocolate chip cookies and strawberry milk I left for him. Rather than spending the day with my mom and dad, where I’d be interrogated for hours about what I did to chase poor Jonathan away, I spent Christmas watching old seasons of “Family Guy” and “Boston Legal” on DVD with only the company of an extra-large pepperoni pizza and a bag of Double-Doubles I purchased the night before.

So now, with the 2008 clock near its final tick, I’ve tossed out just about all of my earlier criteria for my New Year’s date. No, he doesn’t need to reimburse me for the $100 New Year’s Eve party ticket I purchased just days before Jonathan and I broke up, which includes a prime rib and lobster dinner and all the champagne he can suck down. No, he doesn’t have to fall into my preferred height range of five-eight to six-two (which, when I’m wearing heels, makes for the perfect smooching angle if we’re standing without risking any sort of neck injury). No, he doesn’t have to be extremely easy on the eyes (although if he’s too atrocious, he’ll have to drive because I will be the one downing the champagne). And no, the brotha doesn’t necessarily need to be a brotha – if in 2008 America could elect its first Black president, than I can be open to my first non-Black kiss.

The one thing I have to be a stickler on is my requirement for a full set of white teeth. Grills are for cooking my ribs in the summer, not devices to be concealed behind closed lips only to be revealed when the wearer offers a wassup in my direction.

So if you got a brother, a son, a cousin, a mailman, a barber, a parole officer, an accountant, a dentist, a baby daddy, or a stalker, please send me his number. Now.

Diane is (quite) a character on the online soap opera Buena Beach (www.buenabeach.com). Her weekly insights on what’s happening at the Beach are featured exclusively on Urban Thought Collective.