a fools guide to avoiding christmas divorce

on investing in the irrational

My mom is proud of me a lot of the time.

There are places where I fall short. Much to my mothers chagrin, I am not like her. I’m not a very good shopper. We get better at the things we do most often. Given that you’ll rarely find in s shopping mall

When I shop for Christmas presents, I tend to ease into things.

Sure, people in my life want things from stores in the mall.

That’s fine. I need to ease my way there. I do this by going someplace easy, someplace familiar. When I used to drink, shopping began with a trip to the pub for a couple of beers.

When I was more of a stoner, pre mall visits started with a safety. meeting out by the dumpsters.

Now?

I start at Home Depot.

No one on my list wants anything at all at Home Depot. But I know where the electrical section is. I can find my way around the hallowed halls of hardware.

And?

I can generally make it through the doors and into the shitter in under a minute.

Given all of this?

Home Depot is a safe space for men like me.

I went to another similar safe space on my shopping epic -Decathlon.

Decathlon is a great store.

In addition to reminding me about the incredible efforts of Bruce Jenner at the 1976 Olympics, when I’m in a Decathlon store, I feel accomplished.

They’ve got decent stuff there. It’s not exactly what I’d want for any expedition.

But?

Their entry level stuff is good enough for most things.

I guess in a Decathlon I feel like the quality of my athletics, gear knowledge and ability to discern what’s good or not is better than the quality of the stuff they sell there.

Contrast this with me in a tack shop.

I couldn’t tell a three thousand dollar saddal from one that cost ten thousand.

And the trendy horse girl clothes and brands?

They don’t register with my saw dust dulled brain.

But Decathlon?

It’s a fine place to buy the kind of soft goods that wear out within a year no matter what you spend.

While waiting to check out with a human, there was another middle aged fool avoiding the automated check outs.

He was standing ahead of me.

In his basket he had a thirty five pound kettle bell and a pair of woman’s rubber boots.

That’s an odd combo, I remarked while my brain searched wildly for something naughty to say about the kind of guy who wears ladies rubber boots while playing with kettle bells.

Boots for your daughter and the weight for your son?

I had to guess. I’m nosey and have little impulse control so making assumptions and asking strangers intrusive questions is one of my favorite micro aggressions to unleash on unsuspecting chumps.

Actually, they’re both for my wife.

I tried being polite but that impulse control was nowhere to be found.

HA! So you’re looking for a new wife soon?

He glared at me, partially irritated, partially defeated.

I continued:

Lemmie guess… You used to buy her diamonds or products to pamper her. Now, you’re getting her weights and rubber boots?

Taken aback my clear boundaries and compassionate tone he attempted to stammer a response

a b ab ahhh bahh Getting older… grip strength, bone density, wet feet…

The pathetic fool! He took her seriously when she suggested that he get her something practical!

What’s wrong buddy, the vacuum cleaner store was closed? Don’t buy her a shit gift like this. Sure she said that she wants it. But the kettle ball? She’ll pick it up and move it around a few time but before you know it, you’ll be stubbing your toe on it in the middle of the night before it eventually finds its way to the darkest depths of your closet.

He stood there frozen.

And the boots? Let her get the boots. You know she’s planning on buying some anyway. You were going to spend how much here? Two hundred dollars? Put this shit down.

I dropped my stuff and made him do the same.

Come with me.

I took him buy the arm.

Go to a store you would never go to. This place? This is a starter store. This isn’t for us to get something for them. This is for us to get comfortable so we can face something truly awful.

I gestured across the mall hall to a jewelry store with signs that said Close out sale 70% off.

Would you ever go there on your own?

He looked at me sheepishly.

Not since I proposed twenty years ago.

Well bud, if you want things to last twenty more, take that two hundred dollars and go get her some earrings. And if you can spend a bit more? Do that. Get diamonds. Life will be better that way.

I’m proud to say that ‘Tom’ then strode off to buy his wife some diamond earrings.

When you’re in your twenties and struggling with cash?

Don’t buy your wife a vacuum cleaner for Christmas

And when you’re in your fifties and you’re both feeling death’s cold stale breath as not something unthinkable but a none too far off reality?

Don’t get practical at Christmas.

Get uncomfortable.

Go places you wouldn’t.

Take a risk.

Get yer wife something irrational, something foolish.

How the hell else do ya think ya ended up married in the first place?

Merry Christmas you fools.