Christmas is bullshit. It ruins lives. And my relationships. Every year I try to play nice when it comes to Christmas because people act like it’s so important to them. One year I was dating this Catholic guy who acted like it was his religion but I never saw that asshole go to church even once the entire time I knew him. Not even at Christmas. This isn’t your religious belief mother fucker. You just want gifts.
I wouldn’t even know where to begin to talk about the confusion in my brain when my Jewish boyfriend took me to his family’s Christmas dinner. It was one of the loveliest Christmas dinners I’d ever attended. They had a beautiful tree and decorations. Everyone exchanged presents and I just kept thinking Y’all just not gonna talk about the birthday boy or what? Like, for real, the Jews are for sure just in it for the presents.
“Hey, y’all know this is about Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior? The Messiah, He is risen. Hallelujah, glory to God, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, jingle bells, jingle bells,” I ask.
“Nah. He ain’t all that. JC was just some carpenter dude that died 2,000 years ago, but we sure do like this tinsel,” said the Jews.
Cool. Mad love for my Jews keepin it real, but I hate all of this. Ok, actually I like the stupid songs. You can take the rest of it and shove it right up your Santa Claus worshipping ass. Dude. Fuck your elf on the shelf. That is the dumbest fucking thing that I have ever seen. I know I’m not 100% clear how it works because every time I try to listen to someone explain it, my brain tells my ears to shut down so I don’t get dumber. But from the little bit I have heard you move the fucking toy around at night to convince your kids that it’s an actual living spy who will tell Santa if the kid is being a prick because YOU CAN’T BE BOTHERED TO ACTUALLY WATCH YOUR KIDS AND DISCIPLINE THEM APPROPRIATELY BECAUSE YOU’RE TOO MUCH OF A DAMN PUSSY. I think that’s how it works.
So anyway, every year this becomes a problem for me. And I know it’s going to become a problem for my partner so I’ve learned to warn them. “Look, I’m not real into Christmas. I just really don’t enjoy all the commercialism of it and the gift giving makes me uncomfortable,” I say. These are truths. And if I’m being really real, it mostly stems from years of being poor. There were years we didn’t have a tree. Christmas morning my dad would pull the presents he worked 2 jobs to afford out of the coat closet, we’d open them and hug and then go about our day. The whole thing took about 5 minutes. And if I could go back in time I’d give every single Christmas present I’ve ever received from everyone ever back to not have my dad work 2 jobs and just have had him home more. If you were thinking What a cold hearted bitch up until this point I hope you feel really fucking stupid now.
Speaking of stupid people, I tried explaining all of this to the Catholic. He said Christmas was important to him, so I tried to compromise. I said, “Well since I’m really uncomfortable with gift giving, how about instead of giving each other Christmas presents, we take the money we were gonna spend on each other and take a trip somewhere together?”
“Ok, we can do that,” he said and a giant weight was lifted off of me. I let out a huge sigh of relief and felt really great about our agreement. Then he said “But I’m still gonna get you a little something,” and the giant weight came crashing back down and knocked the wind right back out of me. What’s a little something? This guy spent money like there was no tomorrow every where we went so I don’t think that we have the same definition of “a little something.” Did that mean it was little in size or price? I don’t want any fucking presents of any kind or size and now I’m gonna have to get him something to match that shit. WHAT DOES HE EVEN MEAN RIGHT NOW? What he never knew was that statement was the beginning of the end for us. Play nice, Shell. No one understands your broken home, poor sad brown girl bullshit. Try to act normal.
So I tried to be normal. I went Christmas shopping. The mall is a terrible place and Christmas shoppers are the worst kind of humans. I started having heart palpitations just trying to park in this God forsaken place. Going in to that steel cage death match of a mall without a plan was also terrible. I didn’t know what I was getting this asshole and I was so pissed at him for making me do this. I’m hightailing it through this Christmas circus trying to focus on finding “a little something” and not get trampled to death when I finally see a Champs and I’m like Oh yeah, guys like sports stuff. Go there.
I was in the middle of the sporting goods store, aggressively sifting through a bunch of $80 hoodies of shitty NFL teams looking for the one he liked when I thought This is how it ends. I’m going to have a full on heart attack tearing through these awful, overpriced sweatshirts looking for something that will make him happy. This was going to make him happy, right? Me fucking miserable, fighting off Christmas shopping zombies going after the same useless material bullshit and killing each other for it. This makes him happy and this is why we’re never going to work. But who breaks up with someone right before Christmas? So I got the sweatshirt. And I got the fuck out of there.
Over brunch days later he mentions to our friend that he’s already got my presents wrapped and ready to go. Excuse me. Presents? With an S? As in plural? As in more than one present? This son of a bitch. WE AGREED ON ONE LITTLE SOMETHING AND A TRIP YOU ASSHOLE. I went back out and I started all over again. I bought him more shit I didn’t want to buy and I never stopped resenting him for it. I was miserable most of December, but trying to be nice. In January it finally boiled over and we fought about it. I never stopped being a bitch to him. I knew Valentine’s Day was coming and fuck that. February 1st we broke up. We never went on the trip.
With Christmas right around the corner again, I’ve been careful not to get seriously involved with anyone right now. It’s just not worth the fight. And pardon me for wanting to be careful giving my heart away but the last guy I offered it up to pretty much just rubbed his wiener on it and walked away. I’m not sure anyone wants this little bit of wiener heart I have left so I’m just gonna wait out the holidays and see what happens after Valentine’s Day. St. Patrick’s Day is perfect. Nothing gets me worked up like sweaty Irish Americans smashed against each other in a bar ordering up a bunch of Irish Car Bombs with no regard for actual Ireland and their history with car bombs. Hey get me a 9/11 and some DC sniper shots while you’re at it you insensitive cunts!
Anyway, gotta run. Off to volunteer at the homeless shelter. I got some poor-girl-who-overcame wisdom to spread. “When they say ‘a little something’ just get the fuck out,” I’ll tell them. “He doesn’t understand you and never will. Save your money for important stuff.”
Happy holidays you greedy little bastards.