Love, and other stuff I get wrong.

Present Tense.

This describes me perfectly. I am, ‘Present tense.’ There’s only got to be a hint of a birthday on the horizon and I’m a quivering, nervous wreck; and Christmas? Don’t talk to me about Christmas. Easter, anniversaries, achievements and god forbid, Valentine’s Day, are all ‘present tense’ nightmares for me. You see, I always get it wrong.

Okay, true story. I was dating this lady for about three months. You know, the magic three months that’s supposed to be some kind of romantic milestone and means you can start thinking in the medium term, and leaving a few overnight items at one another’s place and being a little more adventurous in the bedroom, when what should just happen along but friggin Christmas. There it was, large as life and straight out the blue with no warning. I mean it’s not like you can ignore it, is it? Not when the great big elephant in the room is, Jesus!

I knew it was going to be a problem, especially as we were doing Christmas at her place (I didn’t even have home field advantage), so I decided to plan ahead. To tell you the truth I wasn’t all that happy with the arrangement because her place is a bit scruffy. You know, she’s not really the tidy type. Anyway, on the 22nd December I put my thinking cap on.

Everything turned out very well actually. I surprised myself and thought of a brilliant present to get her so when the big day arrived I was feeling quite confident. We got up late, having tried some seriously adventurous three month stuff, and made our way to the tree where we had deposited our presents the night before.

It was a great Christmas for me, one of my best ever. I totally think coinciding a three month relationship anniversary with Santa coming (that really was some serious three month stuff) is a master stroke. She got me a new electric bass guitar, a 20MP HD camera, a 32GB iPod Touch and some chocolate Brazil nuts. Then it was her turn.

This was my moment to shine, quite literally as it happens. I had thought long and hard about what she really needed, what would really make a difference to her life, something special.

“It’s beautifully wrapped,” she said, which was all the encouragement I needed.

I couldn’t contain myself any longer and I blurted out, “It’s a cleaning voucher,” I shouted triumphantly. “Whenever you want it, four hours of cleaning. You know, to clean this shit tip up.”

She didn’t open it.