Monday, December 30, 2013

My Yearly Christmas Battle

I've never been big on Christmas, seeing it more as an aggravating yearly ritual of guilt brought on by lack of funds for that whole gift giving thing. I am not one of those people that breaks out the big bag of goodies for every Tom, Dick, and Harry I've ever met, and I make sure to warn everyone a month in advance that if they buy for me expecting something in return, they will end up being sorely disappointed. I have an extremely small circle of people I buy for. My nephew, because I'm childless and someone has to take care of me in my old age. My step niece, because it just wouldn't be fair if I got something for my nephew but not her, and I don't want to start a war in my sister's household-at least, not one that doesn't give me some sort of perceptible advantage. My mom, because the woman birthed me and raised me and kept me in coffee and books all throughout my childhood. And if I can figure out just what the hell he wants, I'll try to buy a gift for my boyfriend. Because love and shit. Everyone else is on their own.

My high school photo. Senior year. Really.

Things were tighter than usual this year. Because of this, it was decided between me and my significant other that we wouldn't exchange gifts this year. Now, I'm not the kind of woman that says one thing and means another. If I say I'm okay with not getting gobs of presents, I'm not going to be butt-hurt if I don't find anything under the tree. So when I came home one day to find a bunch of nicely wrapped packages under the tree a week before Christmas, my first thought was, "Son-of-a-bitch! He did not just do that to me!"

I'm right there with you, Batman.
 
There I am, scrambling to find my guy a reasonably suitable gift that says, "I totally did not regift this piece of shit. Honest!" Something he could use. Something that wouldn't have him plastering a smile on his face to avoid a fight. Something that wouldn't break me financially would be nice too. D- had been getting on me for years to start a scrapbook of our relationship. I've been meaning to do it, saving bits and pieces of memorabilia of our time together and shoving it in an old box to be pasted in some book whenever I found the time. I found something suitable on Amazon and had it express delivered. He had also mentioned wishing I had some David Arkenstone to listen to whenever I gave him a massage. I ordered the album he wanted on iTunes, no delivery necessary. I bought him a Best Buy gift card and a Christmas card. I even tried to get our friend James (AKA, Brandon Black) to wheedle some info out of him, hoping to find out what anime he was interested in buying. I did this knowing that whatever I got for him, it couldn't compare to anything he would give me. Because my man is ALL about the holidays. Christmas is his favorite time of year. He loves to see the look on my face when I open a gift that he probably hocked a kidney to buy me. Year after year, he always tops himself. It's infuriating. And he's probably running out of organs.

But this year, he screwed up. Oh, he out-gifted me alright, but he won't have such an easy time of things when he tries to outdo himself next year. If he won the lotto and bought me a small island, it wouldn't top the gift he gave me a few days ago.

Bling, bitches!

That's right. That is THE RING. We haven't set a date, but hopefully sometime next year I will be changing my last name and forcing some unfortunate women to march behind me wearing the ugliest dresses possible. I'm getting hitched to a man that is far better than I am. A man that is much, much better than I deserve. You can't top that...

And now that I've said that, I just realized...I'm still childless.

Fucking Santa Claus!

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