I know! I know! It’s still technically October (unless you’re reading this tomorrow, or the day after, or from the other side of the equator where it’s November already); what the fuck am I thinking of reminding you that before you’ve got used to four o’clock night time and sleeping with a hot water bottle to warm away the bitter chill, it’ll be snowy Christmas: season of pine trees, little tiny oranges, present buying obligations that cause your bank account to haemorrhage cash and obligatory family gatherings where you drink all the cheap champagne and call your mum a cunt over dry turkey dinner (or maybe that’s just me)?
So yes, I know what you’re thinking, but still I can’t help it.
The leaves are turning russet coloured and moulting from trees like the fur of a shaggy pup in summer. The hands of the clock of my life are whizzing forwards at a speed reminiscent of those late 80s time-travel movies. The festive season will be upon us soon.
But not that soon, which is all good.
Anticipation is the most fabulous part of scheduled pleasure, and there’s plenty of time for indulging in the anticipatory buzz that I like to call ‘Christmas Tingles’ before December arrives and you have to start shopping for tat under a fiver that won’t offend your friends enough to get you scratched off their Xmas card list in 2013.
Of course, if crazy people’s interpretations of Mayan fortune telling are to be believed there won’t be a Christmas 2013 anyway. Which is quite depressing if the thought of annihilation causes you anxiety (personally, I’m over that). To me, the alleged Mayan prediction of a 2012 apocalypse on 21st December is all the more reason to embrace the Christmas Tingles. After all, this might be the last chance you get.
If you’re having trouble getting excited about Christmas it’s for one of two reasons. Either you are a miserable jaded old scrooge, or you’re in a relationship. Whichever it is you need to remedy that right now.
If you fall into the scrooge camp my tips for remedy include purchasing booze that is only acceptable to drink at Christmas – such as sherry, baileys or cherry brandy – and giving yourself a little sip. Then put the booze inside a dark cupboard and allow yourself daily moments of fizzing glee when you remember that the festive season is pretty much the only annual period when you have carte blanche to get totally wasted on questionable spirits and fall asleep on the tube with sick in your lap.
If you fall into the latter camp: QUICK, DUMP YOUR OTHER HALF BEFORE YOU ARE FORCED TO EAT CHRISTMAS PUD WITH THEIR PERVY UNCLE STARING AT YOUR SEASONALLY ERECT NIPPLES!
Everybody knows that being in a relationship at Christmas is crap.
And not only because it forces you to engage with a family you find even more unbearable than your own. Nor because having a partner means you have to actually put thought into gifts (rather than buying everyone a book off Amazon) in order to avoid a row.
No, being coupled at Christmas also means that the really fun things about the festival i.e: the weeks and weeks of parties where you are allowed to drink all the alcohol, play pass the ice with attractive strangers and wake up naked and smelling pine fresh under a new cad’s Christmas tree, are off limits to you.
Sure you can attend the party, but you’ll have to leave at a reasonable hour to make sure you don’t miss the last bus, or eschew alcoholic beverages so that you can drive*. I don’t think I need to explain why such options are less than delightful.
Singletons, I urge you: embrace the Christmas Tingles for they are, like all things in life, a finite joy which will cease the moment you find your other half . And if you’re really struggling, then this might help.
*Yes, you could go to parties hosted by other coupled people, but that, I can attest, is more of a tedious nightmare than spending the Holiday with your lover’s parents. Although, before any of my coupled friends point it out, I admit that even at these parties I am usually the last to leave, being the funtime fabulous female that I am.