THAT'S MEN:The season of peace and goodwill is a minefield of emotion
HAS CHRISTMAS sunk its fangs into your throat yet, like a vampire locking onto a tasty virgin? If so, it’s time to de-fang the festive season. There’s nothing like Christmas for sucking the emotional and financial blood out of you, then throwing you to one side, all used up, around eight o’clock on the evening of Christmas Day.
You might have gathered by now that I’m not a great fan of Christmas. It isn’t that I had bad Christmases as a child. Mine were as magical as anyone else’s.
Christmas, I think, is still a good time for kids even when Santa, who is having no luck getting the reindeer to agree to a defined contribution pension scheme instead of a defined benefit pension scheme, is finding it hard to meet his obligations. When he can’t spend lots of money, he spends time getting the most suitable present he can for what he can afford. That, and the magic of Christmas, generally does the trick.
It’s the adults who can find Christmas trying, and very often the problem isn’t money but the emotional minefield that is the season of peace and goodwill.
Top of the list here is the battle of the mothers. This battle erupts if you’re a couple and if each one of you has a mother determined to lay a massive guilt trip on both of you if you don’t show up for Christmas dinner. You know, “I was so looking forward to having you both around for Christmas because I probably won’t be around next year.”
If you’re susceptible to this kind of blackmail, I suggest you leave the country for the duration. Can’t afford to go abroad? Then tell them you’ve got swine flu. You can still just about get away with it and by next Christmas who knows, maybe the dire prediction will have come true and you’ll only have one mother-in-law to satisfy.
Then there is the demand that everybody be happy and jolly at Christmas, and especially on Christmas Day.
Why should people who can’t stand each other for the rest of the year have to grin and bear it just because it’s Christmas Day? Why should families who have made an art out of living in a subterranean state of war have to pretend at Christmas that they actually love each other, a process which usually requires walking on eggshells for a whole day? Better to accept that you’re going to be miserable, irritated and fed up and put up with it – eat the turkey, fall asleep, wait for tomorrow.
But first there is the matter of presents. Sometimes women will say, “Don’t get anything for me, I can’t be bloody bothered, it’s all nonsense anyway.”
Gentlemen, you must never take women at their word when they say this. What they mean is: “Your task is to buy me a present that will thrill me. However, I am not going to give you any clue whatsoever as to what I want. It is for you to worry about this until 5pm on Christmas Eve when you will fall into Brown Thomas and buy me something glittery you can’t afford. Please keep the receipt as I will need to change it on St Stephen’s Day.”
By the way, aeons ago I took a woman at her word when she said she didn’t want anything for Christmas. Needless to say, wedding bells did not subsequently ring.
When talking about Santa, I mentioned that if you can’t afford to buy an expensive present, you can invest time in buying the right present at a price you can afford. Some people, however, want a trophy present, on the grounds that if you really love them, you’ll trash your credit card for them. If you insist on satisfying someone’s ego in that way, can I suggest you get them a present that at least will wipe the smile off their face: Buy them a goat.
And when they open the card, jump up and down, shouting, “Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”
I leave you with my usual Christmas greeting: Bah! Humbug!
Padraig O'Morain (pomorain@ireland.com) is a counsellor accredited by the Irish Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy. His book, That's Men, The Best of the That's Men column from The Irish Times, is published by Veritas