SIDEWALK THERAPY: CUFFING SEASON, THE REAL COLD, HARD TRUTH

This morning, right as a pigeon tried to commit a murder-suicide by flying directly into my face, I started thinking about cuffing season — that magical time of year when New Yorkers suddenly remember they have skin, feelings, and an irrational fear of dying alone during a snowstorm. A season where love gets messy, the weather gets disrespectful, and everyone forgets they swore they were “working on themselves.”

Because nothing makes somebody abandon a healing journey faster than a 27-degree windchill and a radiator that sounds like it’s coughing up its past lives.

Cuffing season pretends, very boldly, to be romantic.

It’s not.

It’s a citywide survival tactic disguised as vulnerability and comfort.

People who spent all summer shouting,

“I’m focusing on ME!”

suddenly reappear in late November like:

“Hey… been thinking about you.”

No, babe.

You’ve been thinking about warmth.

Winter delusion hits like a brick.

You find yourself believing things like:

“We have unreal chemistry.”

No. You have shared insulation.

“This feels deep.”

It feels heated. Not the same.

“They really understand me.”

They understood you were shivering. That’s it.

But the funniest part — the deep, soul-level, sidewalk-certified comedy — is what happens when cuffing season accidentally lasts longer than intended.

April arrives.

Daylight returns.

People start showing ankles again.

And your seasonal cuddle is still sprawled across your couch asking,

“So… what should we watch tonight?”

As if you didn’t already burn through every Netflix documentary about cults, volcanoes, kidnappings, wild parrots, and weird billionaires.

And slowly, the winter version of you — your seasonal persona — starts to melt.

Winter-you cooked.

Spring-you considers slicing fruit a culinary achievement.

Winter-you was a blanket-sharing cuddle champion.

Spring-you wants distance, airflow, and the right to reclaim your half of the bed in peace.

Winter-you watched documentaries like an intellectual.

Spring-you wants trash TV that scrambles your brain like eggs.

But here’s the plot twist:

Sometimes the connection survives the thaw.

Sometimes you both stay.

Sometimes the vibe is real enough to cross into spring, allergies, sunshine, and the sudden urge to reinvent your entire life just because the weather is above 55.

Because anyone who sticks around after witnessing:

your chapped-lip era,

your thermal-layer gremlin era,

your emotional-support-space-heater dependency,

your February breakdown,

your March breakdown,

your “WHY IS THIS TRAIN DELAYED AGAIN?” meltdown,

your bare-minimum personal hygiene slump…

and still wants more of you?

That’s not cuffing season.

That’s connection.

Or shared delusion.

Or destiny with a laugh track.

If your seasonal cuddle makes it to June?

Congratulations.

You either found the good stuff…

or both of you are too tired to start over.

Either way, you’re winning something.

Now exhale. Let it land.

And if you need to keep walking, I’ll meet you at the corner.

Love L.