Early Reflection

I wrote last year about how I don’t fuck with Christmas; it has eerie powers. Well, this year has been relatively painless, what with the whole “Not Having To Buy For A Partner Plus Their Entire Extended Family” thing.

I’d say something like, “It speaks volumes for internet shopping” to somehow outline just how techno-savvy I am, and how my forward-thinking allowed me to avoid being crushed among the throng of iPod desperate teenagers and Soccer-mums bearing suicidal shopping trolleys, if it weren’t for the fact that I simply didn’t do any shopping over the ‘net.

Instead… I got all my shopping done on the weekend, as outrageous as that sounds.

It helps further that the only presents I had to buy were for my parents, my brothers and other miscellaneous friends whom have been there this year.

The idea of spending Christmas by myself is not one I dread, nor do I think it will be odd; Christmas always represented just another party that my ex and I held. We entertained constantly, and I’ve grown accustomed to a definite lack of dinner-parties, involving me cooking on the weber, and consuming vast amounts of wine or beer. Or both.

Faking my interest in conversations with my sister-in-law’s dumb-arse boyfriend is something I’ve definitely enjoyed living without.

Oh Christmas hasn’t got me worried one iota. It’ll be just another day, and I will come out of it bloating with food and brimming with scotch and coke.

It’s New Years that has me more concerned.

The previous New Years saw me spending much of the night drinking with a couple good friends, after having very little to eat beforehand. I had no appetite, due to stress.

It was a time in where the world seemed to spin uncontrollably, dizzying me with bright spotlights, loud music, and promises of uncertain times ahead. It was so confusing, to be out without my wife, knowing she was with someone else. I felt so unrestrained, yet so confused.

It must be how a caged animal must feel when it is returned to the wild.

I left the shin-dig fifteen minutes prior to the countdown to the new year. I was ill from not eating anything that day. I stopped the taxi just before my home so that I could walk off a bit of the alcoholic haze that enveloped me.

As I began my trek home, I heard the commotion from the city. Midnight had just skipped past. Many homes holding their own parties cheered and popped their poppers.

My eyes vehemently stared at their front doors, my mind selfishly wondering why everyone should be so happy, when the world around my shoulders was crumbling.

I cast my thoughts back to happier times, in where I looked forward to holding parties, or heading out with friends and with the wife. I remembered the laughter in my ears, and the antics reminiscent of many mid-twenty Australianites.

But I walked alone that night, with the fireworks at my back.

Further reflection reminded me of her selfishness. How nothing was ever good enough for her. No matter how hard I tried, I could never hope to achieve the lofty heights of her expectations. No matter how much I sacrificed for her, she still spent New Years Eve with another man.

2004 will be remembered by me with the final words I SMS’ed to her that night. I had married the woman, and had tolerated all her quirks. And remembering all the effort I had made, I sent her the text message:

“I am the most stupid man alive”