I can now say that the Great Christmas Tree Debate is over. For this year.
When you’re coupled off the best part of having a relationship, other than the connubial rights is having someone to go with you to bring home a Christmas tree.
When a was a little fagglette, I dreamed that one day I would have a big hairy guy to drag the taped-up cardboard box from the basement and put our little tree together piece by piece. In our well appointed house with its name-brand appliances. Okay, I was that “type” of little gay boy. Sue me, as I grew older the only thing that changed is that hauling your tree up from the basement is not nearly as romantic as going out to the wilderness and chopping down a fresh, live tree. When I lived in Dallas, I drug Dalton through hours of Texas mud, to find just the right green symbol of Christ’s birth to axe murder. Oh, the smell...the smell. You could just smell the season in the air.
It came as a shock last week when the other half calmly stated,
“We should just buy a tree…yeah know… to have, then we don’t have go get one from a cold lot from a registered sex offender, just to have it die on us?”
Blasphemy!
And so started the great debate, real or fake plastic. Oh, the tears and the high pitched whining. The endless crying. Begging. The non-stop begging. It was just embarrassing.
Nothing worked on that man. But seeing as we have a healthy relationship we soon came to a compromise. Beautiful and real one year, gross, dumb, fake the next. See compromise.
Last Saturday, we walked out of the Uber store with one amazing 12 feet ready to assemble symbol of our harmonious life. We had to get 12 feet tall, because anything shorter would just be a cop-out. What? I’m a size queen. For trees that is.
When you’re coupled off the best part of having a relationship, other than the connubial rights is having someone to go with you to bring home a Christmas tree.
When a was a little fagglette, I dreamed that one day I would have a big hairy guy to drag the taped-up cardboard box from the basement and put our little tree together piece by piece. In our well appointed house with its name-brand appliances. Okay, I was that “type” of little gay boy. Sue me, as I grew older the only thing that changed is that hauling your tree up from the basement is not nearly as romantic as going out to the wilderness and chopping down a fresh, live tree. When I lived in Dallas, I drug Dalton through hours of Texas mud, to find just the right green symbol of Christ’s birth to axe murder. Oh, the smell...the smell. You could just smell the season in the air.
It came as a shock last week when the other half calmly stated,
“We should just buy a tree…yeah know… to have, then we don’t have go get one from a cold lot from a registered sex offender, just to have it die on us?”
Blasphemy!
And so started the great debate, real or fake plastic. Oh, the tears and the high pitched whining. The endless crying. Begging. The non-stop begging. It was just embarrassing.
Nothing worked on that man. But seeing as we have a healthy relationship we soon came to a compromise. Beautiful and real one year, gross, dumb, fake the next. See compromise.
Last Saturday, we walked out of the Uber store with one amazing 12 feet ready to assemble symbol of our harmonious life. We had to get 12 feet tall, because anything shorter would just be a cop-out. What? I’m a size queen. For trees that is.
No needles to sweep with a fake on. Just hang some pine flavored air fresheners in the back to give it that "fresh cut" smell.
ReplyDeleteI hope you will okay with a fake one.
ReplyDeleteI never had a real tree, plastic was always the deal in my home
Sorry, I am on board with hubby - go plastic. For years I had real trees, and spent months was cleaning up needles and splinters...
ReplyDeleteTell hubby Walmart recalled all the fake trees because of asbestos and powdered glass, then go get a real tree infested with cinara aphids and spider mites like any true American.
ReplyDeleteYour comment word verification is droosess.
i love real trees. have only missed one year with one, and that was last year when we moved into the house and were in the middle of painting and subfloors.
ReplyDeletethis year, it's all about a real tree. woo hoo!
Oh, how my heart aches hearing that! Such a picture of marital bliss. I can just about picture the tears streaking your reddened face as you throw a tantrum.
ReplyDeleteThe right tree is paramount. after all, we couldn't have your hetero neighbours thinking you were the kind of tacky, gauche fags who'd have a *gasp* plastic tree!
I went fake tree a few years back and thought that since I was going fake I should REALLY go fake and got a gorgeous 7 foot white tree... brightens up the living room every year.
ReplyDelete