Their sacrifice is great. Once you start to see them, you will see them everywhere. They sit, defeated. Heads in hands, slumped over. Like survivors of a great tragedy, they try to comprehend how they got here, how this happened, why oh why in Dashers name this happened at all. Mocking and teasing, Jingle Bell Rock plays incongruous of their mood, unsympathetic to their plight, those sleighs bells ring-ringa-ringing relentlessly. These are broken men who could only really be cheered up by a sleigh ride out of here, and they know from experience that will not happen. They are here, and they will not be leaving here anytime soon.
I am of course talking about men in department stores, at Christmas time.
While women browse, and contemplate, and construct the perfect gifts, these men populate the seating areas of Bloomingdales and Nordstrom – name a store – their eyes glazed over like Christmas hams, so acute is the boredom that has taken hold of them while they wait. And wait. And wait.
Mostly they sit together. Perhaps a silent acknowledgment of a brotherhood facing hard times. Perhaps so they can just be closer to someone whose face says, “Dude I know, I know,” but whose mouth doesn’t have to. Or perhaps because in department stores the sofas are put together, originally intending to create a “relaxing area” but at this time of year really creating more of an impression of retail refugees whose boats just landed on floor 4 of Womenswear and Lingerie.
Some men do go it alone, sitting where they can, on window ledges, amongst the glittered, snowy displays turning them into scenes from A Nightmare before Christmas. Or sometimes bravely on chair height shelves, forgoing all shame that they are wedged between the Elle Macpherson panties and bras, because it’s a safe, quiet place.
Am I criticizing these men for not partaking in the buying of gifts? Not at all. Quite the opposite in fact. My soul intention of this post is to praise them.
Because these good men are minding their yuletide butts out the way instead of trailing behind their significant other, taking up good gift grabbing space, or nagging to go home with sentences that end in “Babe”. These men are preventing me from hating on the women who insist on dragging them to the store knowing full well how much they dislike it. They are not pretending to be interested, or offering dubious opinions (I’m not being mean gentlemen, I value your opinions mostly, I just think when a girl is picking decorative soaps you should get a free pass because it’s highly likely this is not your field of expertise.) And best of all these men are letting all us women buy stuff for ourselves that are not gifts but while you’re on the 3rd floor of Womenswear and Lingerie you might as well help Santa stuff your stocking with, um, some Elle Macpherson knickers. They work for her after all.
So, really what I’m saying is bless these men. You, if you’re one of them. Bless you for your patience. For your endurance. For your show of camaraderie in coming with to Christmas shop even though you hate it. Bless you for sighing into the silent night where your wives and girlfriends can’t see you. I see your sacrifice. And hopefully today as everyone shops for last minute gifts they will see you too. You are a reminder at this time of year to be good, and patient and kind to one another. You are giving before a single present changes hands. And as miserable as you look, I think that’s beautiful.
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