Christmas Bomb! (Share your stories)
December 4, 2013 25 Comments
The first Christmas Sarabeth and I celebrated together was with her family in Florida. Little did I know that it would be the most embarrassing Christmas ever.
Being the cool boyfriend that I was, and still trying to win her family over with my limited charm and my narcissistic good looks, I was exceptionally excited about my wicked-awseome present-buying skills. Oh, I got her a trinket here and there, a book maybe, probably a necklace, and then came the moment of truth – the first clothing item I had ever bought for a girl.
I watched with anticipation as she undid the boyish wrapping. Her family couldn’t have missed the growing excitement on my face as we all leaned in closer to observe.
Was it a dress? A pretty skirt?
Sarabeth pulled out of the American Eagle box a very fancy pink polo shirt. Now, on the surface, this sounds very anti-climatic, but in truth, this was a very self-sacrificial gift. You see, I wasn’t a fan of girls wearing polo shirts – it always made me think that they just got off of work at the Dairy Queen (I’ve matured since then, and they don’t bother me as much).
But here’s the kicker.
While I was humbly sharing how self-sacrificial I was being: “…I don’t even like polo shirts, but I know Sarabeth does, so I thought, well, heck, Christmas isn’t about me – it’s about those I love…” Sarabeth uttered a statement that made my heart stop, and caused every eye in the living room to land on me, demanding a new story.
She said: “This is a man’s shirt.”*
I’m going to call this moment a Christmas bomb.
I had never shopped for women’s clothing before. When I had walked into American Eagle the day I got it, it was sitting on a table at the very front of the store, probably with a big 50% off sign next to it.
It was the promotional and the pink and the polo that caught my attention. I didn’t think for a moment that it would be possible for me to make such a dumb mistake.
But trust me: Dumb mistakes are not only possible, they’re almost inevitable. But we can help each other out this shopping season by sharing our horror stories and warning our fellow-man to double-check each and every purchase to make Christmas for our loved ones just perfect.
So put your pride aside and share your most embarrassing Christmas bomb stories and warn us all of preventable doom.
*Sarabeth quickly forgave me, and, as you know, went on to marry me 11 months later. I lost and gained through this experience. I lost some pride and I gained a valuable lesson: Just when you think it’s the perfect gift, remember to look for the obvious flaw.