In the early Noughties a certain vivacious young journalism student was having the time of her life at prestigious De Montfort University. She was effortlessly popular, far more intelligent than could be measured by an outmoded and unfair university grading system, smooth skinned, glossy haired and, reader, she was madly in love - his name was Christian. This graceful girl had met her match in a passionate art student who, in his scruffy, paint-covered jeans and tight t-shirt used to drive her wild. He didn't have much, but he loved her and she loved him.
One Christmas during their second year the art student declared he was going to take her on a special Christmas date before they went home for the holidays. He borrowed a friend's battered old car, picked her up and drove to the middle of the snowy English countryside. She watched in amazement as he unpacked thick blankets, food, drink, a tent and a camp stove. "I can't afford shining jewels or fancy perfume, so for Christmas I want to give you a romantic night alone together in the snow." That budding young journalist was me. How did I react to this unusual gift? Well you know me reader, even at that tender young age I was blessed with a greater understanding than most.
I dumped him.
I was shocked, no, disgusted, that this man who I had been so attached to honestly believed that a cold tent in the snow was an adequate replacement for a normal gift. How dare he devalue me in such a way? I was horrified that my own boyfriend couldn't be bothered to get the cash together to get me jewellery for Christmas, or even designer clothes. Rather than put in a measly extra 25 hours a week in on his minimum wage bar job to get me something nice, he thought this would fool me into thinking we had a future together. A romantic night alone under the stars with home cooked food? Yeah, great, but I can't show it off to my girl friends can I? I even pointed out that all that fattening food he was preparing would go straight to my hips but he laughed and said I didn't need to worry about my figure and that I'd still be beautiful if I was bigger. Thoughtless git. I was heartbroken that Christmas, knowing I was going home with nothing to show for my year long romance, whilst my old school friends would be flashing around the diamond rings and designer handbags that their hard working boyfriends had purchased effortlessly thanks to their well paid banking jobs.
That weekend when I got home I sobbed the whole story out to my mum and big sis. They were so supportive, in the way that only women can be. My sister was on the phone almost immediately, getting in touch with a friend of a friend with an older brother who was loaded and looking for some Christmas companionship. That's how a met Benjamin. On our second date, on Christmas Eve, he took me out to dinner and gave me the best present of all; a Tiffany's chain and diamond pendant that I still treasure to this day as the first of many adequate and normal gifts from my husband.
That, my dear reader, that is true Christmas spirit. It's a time for the boys to give and girls to get. Am I right ladies? So listen up boys, if you want some Christmas loving this year make sure you're willing to pay the price.
