If you weren't already aware by the mass amounts of Christmas trees on Instagram, let me just tell you that Christmas is in 19 days. It's the time of year to put a forest in your living room, hang socks above your fireplace, and do anything to make sure people know that it's officially the most wonderful time of the year. Once that's done you can sit on the couch with your hot cider/cocoa with marshmallows and turn on the tv only to be bombarded by Christmas movie after Christmas movie. These movies immediately give you expectations, high expectations, for what this season should look like. Snow! Love! Presents! Joy! Kindness! Warm blankets! Magic! LOVE! LOVE! LOVE! Jude Law! All completely reasonable expectations. Right? Totally. Let's explore.
Expectation: if I just pick myself up and move off to another continent for a couple of weeks during Christmas then I'll find my one true love, and it won't matter that I have walls around my heart or that I've been a victim of unrequited love for longer than I care to admit. I'll meet someone who cares enough to break down those walls or requite love (is that a thing?) and I will be completely changed because Christmas is magical and JUDE LAW.
Reality: Jude Law will not tell me I'm lovely so instead I will spend Christmas morning looking for love from my sister's dog who is clearly more interested in my brother's breakfast than kissing me back. Which is actually fine because I'm not even a dog person. I'll also be eating lots of carbs and hanging out with my family instead of alone in a stranger's home.
Expectation: My parents will plan a magical trip to Paris with our entire family, but they'll be too wrapped up (get it? WRAPPED?) in themselves to remember to let me out of the attic to get on the plane with them. I'll be forced to eat junk food and protect my house from burglars who are bumbling idiots and who almost kill me, but instead I'll be saved by a man who is probably supposed to be Santa Claus.
Reality: We won't plan a trip because getting that many people to be able to coordinate their schedules is right up there next to impossible, plus my dad hates flying and only my brothers have passports. So instead we'll all be crowded around my grandma's table eating carbs and wearing hats and then sitting on a couch looking like we love each other.
Expectation: It's completely plausible for people from two wildly different backgrounds to get together even though the guy shows signs of slight perversion slash stunted brain growth slash really really poor eating habits slash does he ever do laundry because he is always wearing the same thing and I bet those tights don't smell great. However, his love for Christmas will make the two of them fall in love and visit the North Pole regularly. Or did they end up living in the North Pole? That part always confused me.
Reality: I'm still trying to get dogs to show me affection.
Expectation: WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN. SOMEBODY will confess his love to me, either the Prime Minister, my husbands best friend, or a man with whom words are unnecessary because our connection is so strong that we communicate with our hearts. We're obviously using more than 10% of our hearts. Whatever happens, it will all be ok because it's Christmas and at Christmas everything is always ok.
Reality: We don't even have a Prime Minister in the United States, so instead I'll spend Christmas with a doctor.
Frosty the Snowman
Reality: I love in California. By the beach. We're convinced snow is a myth.
The Santa Clause
Expectation: Santa is real but your dad killed him. Now your dad is Santa and CHRISTMAS MAGIC.
Reality: ...my dad has a beard.
Now if you'll excuse me I'm off to scour the streets for Jude Law.