We’ve are currently in the stage where everything we say to each other comes with a bucket load of things unsaid. ‘I’m just going to see Tony’ seems to have become ‘I need to be out of the house and I don’t know when I’ll be back’; ‘Do we have any sellotape?’ has the silent reply of “why the hell don’t you know where things are, seeing as you’ve lived here for 12 years and you haven’t left yet!”
Christmas heightens all of it. Like a game of whack-a-mole, you don’t know what problem or sensitive issue is going to rear it’s ugly head next. Sometimes it’s not what you say, it’s what you do. And on Christmas Day is can also be what you give.
I thought – (spoiler alert – wrongly, as it turned out) that something useful, practical, that he would really need in the flat would be a good idea. Not exactly a housewarming present, but that sort of thing. I didn’t want to give anything really personal, I didn’t want to work out what jumper would suit him, what music he likes, a book I know he’d enjoy. That felt all a bit painful. So I bought a new whistling kettle.
Well, what CAN you get the man you’re about to split up with for Christmas?
He’ll need a kettle. He liked a whistling one we used to have. There’s nothing lonelier than using a saucepan to make your tea when you move.
But I judged it wrong. He felt like I was reminding him that he’s leaving. He felt shoved out, like I was rubbing it in. So, it’s not so much the thought that counts, but who’s having the thought. And what were they thinking? And Oh, so many things to think about.
And that’s how much of our Christmas day went – both of us judging things a bit wrong.
Today, I want all trace of Christmas gone. I’ve left the tree up, but all the cards have been recycled, the crap from the crackers has been binned, decorations are all boxed up and it almost looks back to normal. Whatever that means.
But I can’t say it’s been a joy. It’ll feel better when I can do a charity-shop run to get rid of the horrid jacket he bought me!
Can We Do This Well? 