Worth Men-tioning Ep 6: On the 16th Day of Christmas My True Love Left Me at A Christmas Party

On the scale of love languages, gifts are my lowest placeholder. It may be due to the fact that in the past they’ve been used as a source of leverage, placation, bribe, or an attempt to satisfy the void of relationship. It may also be due to the fact that gifts are the one love language where there is a loud societal expectation of return.  

If someone gives a gift...

They may expect one in return. 

If not a gift in return, they may expect a thank you card. 

If not a thank you card, they may expect a "thank you." 

We don’t write thank you cards for a hug or quality time. And though acts of service or words of affirmation may receive vocalized gratitude, there is not the same consistent level of expected reciprocity.  

I’m a quality time, physical touch, and words of affirmation kinda gal. Gifts are not my strong suit, but I found myself dating someone who highly ranked them. In an effort to challenge myself, grow in my relationship, and attempt to love this person in a way meaningful to them, I pulled out all the stops. 

Advent calendars were a tradition in my family. They typically consisted of little chocolates or small gifts, so I decided to create my own for my significant other, with a gift for each of the 24 days leading up to Christmas. 

It was a challenge for me. I felt silly purchasing little trinkets that I personally wouldn’t have wanted to receive. As an analyst, I overthought each purchase, talking myself in and out of which pair of socks or snack he would enjoy most. I went to multiple different stores over several days scouring the shelves for anything funny, relevant, or meaningful. For the days I didn’t have a physical gift to give, I planned a special event or date for us.

In addition to the 24 days of Christmas gifts, I had built him a Christmas tree out of presents. Each overanalyzed, carefully weighed, meaningful selection stacked one on another.

I took him ice skating, to a Christmas market, we built gingerbread houses together, I filled his shelves with trinkets from his favorite shows, and we watched his favorite Christmas films. 

And on the 16th day of Christmas he left me at a Christmas party. 

Going into the evening I was feeling ill. I had just been diagnosed with mold toxicity, adrenal fatigue, and a swell of inflammatory markers. I was on a new cocktail of supplements and natural remedies, and two of them were causing problems: migraines and nausea. Lying down for my migraines worsened the nausea and sitting up worsened the migraines. It had been a hellish two weeks. 

Our friends were throwing a party. It was our first Christmas party as a couple and we were excited to attend. For one of his advent gifts I had even purchased matching pajamas for us to wear to the event. Before we left for the party we discussed driving separately from our friends since I wasn’t feeling well and would most likely need to leave early, but after a brief conversation with them we agreed to carpool.

The party was mostly mingling and snacks. I was tired. I had a little brain fog, and conversation seemed difficult at times. The atmosphere of the party was over stimulating since the majority of the guests were my date's acquaintances. At the midpoint in the evening, a small group of ladies assembled. We stood in the kitchen discussing some comedic difficulties with our significant others. It came as a relief to me in the moment as I felt I had found relatability and space to talk through things I’d been wrestling with on my own for some time. 

I asked questions of my nearly engaged friend and married friend about their relationships and dealing with differences, frustrations, difficulties. We laughed, related, and their answers were helpful, practical, encouraging. 

The object of our conversation joined the kitchen. The men didn’t seem all too pleased to be the topic of our discussion. We made an effort to invite them into the subject so they could express their thoughts and feelings and not be made to feel they were being gossiped about. This only exacerbated the issue. There was a clear tension forming between him and me. I felt a misunderstanding was occurring, but nothing a follow conversation of clarity and sensitivity couldn’t remedy. 

The host kindly offered to show us ladies the upstairs and encouraged the men to go out to the backyard as to dispel the minor, but palpable tension. We found a quiet upstairs bedroom and sat in a circle on the carpet. It was a quiet relief to my pounding head to be away from the noise of the other guests. 

We chatted for a long while. It was refreshing and comforting. We dissected the tension in the kitchen and while expressing frustrations in our respective relationships we also offered each other wisdom and encouragement. 

A boy, not belonging to any of us, came up the stairs. “What are you guys doing up here?” He scooted quite awkwardly towards us. “We’re having a conversation.” We replied kindly. “Why?” He immaturely asked. We kindly asked him to give us the space to continue as we were in the middle of something important to each of us. He scooted back down the stairs. We talked longer. 

Finally our partners arrived at the top of the stairs. One of the men simply stated, “We’re leaving.” We ladies laughed awkwardly. The men looked tired and irritated. We told them we would be finished in a moment. My date barely made eye contact with me, and said nothing. They went back downstairs. 

We wrapped up our conversation by praying together for strength and wisdom in navigating our relationships and to love our men well. We descended the stairs to grab our coats. We made the rounds saying goodbye and our men were nowhere to be found. I opened the front door and looked for the car we had arrived in. It was gone.

“They left.” Someone called from the living room. I looked at the phone I had left unattended in my jacket pocket. There were no new messages. In fact, there wasn’t a single message from him all evening. 

Huddling over the phone, I checked his location and found a little blue dot speeding away. 

“They're pranking us.” I told my friend. We watched the dot move even further away, now 10 minutes down the road.

We both dialed our significant others, “Where are you?” 

“We told you we were leaving.” Both of their voices sounded irritated, serious, with no glimmer of remorse.  

“Are you coming back?” I asked. There was silence on the other end of the phone. 

Without context, conversation, or any attempt at communication, I was left on a curb with my friend and a throbbing head, with no way to get home.

After a long moment, the blue dot performed a U-turn and headed back our direction. 

Later that evening I would discover that conspiracy had been formed, irritations had grown, and the men's agreed upon justifiable action to our long absence from the main floor of the party, was to leave us behind to fend for ourselves. 

We sat on the edge of my bed.

“How did you expect me to get home?” 

“Why did you not come and talk to me?”

“You didn’t even text me to tell me you were upset, how was I to know?”

“And you knew I was sick tonight.”

A deafening silence rang in my aching temples. He stared into the void. “I think this will be one of the worst mistakes of my life.” He said mournfully. 

The remaining days of Christmas were colored gray. Each brightly colored gift I had wrapped for him sat soured in the corner of my bedroom. I had not expected anything in return, yet each attentively curated present I handed to him to be unwrapped, felt like another nauseating punch in the gut in return. 

We celebrated Christmas on the 19th, because he was set to fly home on the 20th. He unwrapped the gift tree I had created. Awe, impressed, surprise, taken aback, and grateful were his reactions to each one. I knew I hit it out of the park. 

The year prior we had spent Christmas together, though we had not been a couple at the time. This year he assumed I would spend Christmas with my family and did not invite me to spend it with his. He declared he would absolutely not miss Christmas with his family, but he supposed I could have Halloween and maybe Thanksgiving the following year. 

I drove him to the airport on the morning of the 20th, and a friend took me to the airport later the same day.

Some gifts don’t keep giving. Some give unwanted gifts in return. Regardless, I suppose I reached my goal. I’ve become a pretty decent gift giver who listens to her intuition mostly on the first try, doesn’t second guess (as much) and doesn’t expect a card in return. However, I still stand by the preference of quality time and a heartfelt hug.

Merrily,

B