• Danielle J

Winter is the least sexy season ever.


As someone who has lived in New England all her life I love the changing seasons. They all come with their own perks and I can honestly say I look forward to something special during every time of year. They have their own personalities too. Something that sets them apart from each other. Their own vibes and feel.


We’re currently in the midst of winter. Winter definitely has an attitude all its own. Before you read on just know that I’m not one of those complainers who decides to live here and yet CAN’T STAND winter. I love Christmas and snow days and sledding and hot chocolate.


I do, however, have an observation to make: Winter is the least sexy season ever.


Now, Winter, I don’t want you to take this personally! But nothing about you turns me on in the slightest. Nothing about an extra layer of bulk to keep from freezing my assets off puts me in the mood.


I’m not complaining, per se. Just stating a fact. I live here, I know it’s coming and in general I’m ok with it. There are lots of fun things to do in winter. But snow and cold and wind and ice make me want to stay home and be cozy. And cozy is fun! Cozy is cute! But cozy is not sexy.
Plaid PJ's... not sexy.


Also, my husband is a crazy person when it comes to not turning up the heat and I am always cold. That does not make for a match made in “let’s get it on” heaven.


To me winter is cold and dark and as un-sexy as they come. I want to be a human burrito wrapped up tight in the warmest blankets I own. It’s not exactly a recipe for romance.


Summer, on the other hand? Summer is where it’s at. Long days, warm nights, beaches, pools etc. Summer is sexy. Winter is tolerable.


Summer is like that strappy little black dress you bought to show off your tan, glowing skin. Winter is like that gigantic wool sweater you bought with the neckline up to you ear lobes.

Summer is like your hot neighbor taking his shirt off to mow his lawn. Winter is like your elderly neighbor showing you slides of his trip to Niagara Falls.  


Summer is like that episode of Friends where Ross and Rachel kiss for the first time at the coffee shop and it was, like, THE MOST anticipated thing ever and we all swooned. Winter is like that episode of Friends where Monica is sick but she’s ovulating so she’s trying to get Chandler to sleep with her in spite of the stuffy nose, sneezing and general grossness that accompanies illness.




Summer is that Friday night, the weekend is mine, feeling. Winter is laying in bed on a Sunday night wondering if you can wake up in the morning and call in “simply not interested” to work.

Those are my thoughts, at least. Maybe you disagree with me. Maybe your winters are filled with romantic ski lodges where you sip champagne in front of a roaring fireplace. In which case...take me with you! But until someone decides to pack me on their winter getaway I will stick by my assessment.  Winter, you’re cute and cuddly and we’ve made some good memories. But summer, you can come light my fire any time now!

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