Listen, I have to put my foot down. I can’t do this anymore. Every year we get so overrun by burnt-out single women looking for love during the holidays that it becomes like SantaCon but for white privileged Insta girlies. You all have to stop coming here.

I get that you’re confused and think this is the spot to have your Christmas romance. The town is named Evergreen Hollow, and that’s our bad. It sounds whimsical and romantic, but it was named after Nathaniel Evergreen, who was super into eugenics and all kinds of racist stuff. Did any of you bother to do a quick Google search? We have zero quaint Victorian bed and breakfasts. There’s a Motel 6 by the truck stop, and unless you want to be the lead in a true crime podcast, I wouldn’t stay there.

I can’t stress this enough: our small, impoverished town is not the place to have your main-character holiday fling.

Do you think we have hot guys, boutique shopping, quirky coffee shops, and huge winter festivals when the median salary here is $29k a year? The only store in town is a Dollar General. The few residents who are rich enough to get their groceries from an actual supermarket where they don’t sell jeans and pregnancy tests in the same aisle as chicken nuggets are the people dry-humping AR-15s on their Christmas cards and providing armed “security” for the Confederate monument in the town square.

All I’m asking for is some perspective. You all like reminding everyone you meet that you went to Oberlin, so put that critical thinking to good use.

And as far as attractive man-meat to jingle your bells and deck your halls, we have a total of two men who might be conventionally attractive. There’s Chris, but he’s in jail for storming the Capitol, and Todd, who, unless you like taxidermy and crypto, I’d recommend keeping clear of.

If you’re looking for a hunky young doctor who wants to give back to his hometown, we don’t have one unless you count Clint, a misogynist physician older than Methuselah who won’t prescribe birth control to unmarried women. What about a young and sensitive school principal dedicated to helping young people rise out of generational poverty? Fresh out. Let me introduce you to Earl. He doesn’t know how to use email. Yes, he’s the superintendent, and yes, this is the Northeast, and yes that is a Blue Lives Matter bumper sticker on his LeBaron. Feeling a tingle in your tinsel yet?

There are also zero extroverted new gay best friends to make here. Know why? Because we’re fucking awful.

How about charming winter festivals? Snow? Ice sculptures and ice castles? You know there’s a climate crisis, right? This is coal country, the literal birthplace of the climate crisis. Oh, you want some cute pics of a romantic stroll in the snow while wearing a cute beret and sexy wool coat? At best, you’ll get a muggy walk through the craggy part of the public land where everyone in the county throws away their old tires—the dress code is up to you.

All of you need to leave. We don’t have the infrastructure for this. The parking alone is a nightmare. Every store, bar, and restaurant is out of white wine. Please just go. You don’t even like it here, and you’re all being unnecessarily rude to everyone you meet.

Just book a girl’s trip to Cancun next year or something.