What Are We Gonna Do With All This Trash?: Marriage and the Holidays

December 18, 2006

Marriage and the Holidays

Ok, so married life has been great so far. I mean, we get to sleep in the same room now at my parents. Awesome, right? And we don't have to answer any more questions about when we're going to get married. Whew! With that monkey off my back let's get to some not so great things about being married.

*having to buy holiday gifts and birthday gifts for everyone on both sides of the family
*having to smile and say, "NO, NOT YET!!!" whenever (and it's quite often) someone asks if we're going to have a baby
*having to fulfill family obligations for both sides of the family
*having to talk to TWO moms

Do you see a trend here? Families make married life a little less pleasant. I am only bitching because I was so excited when my family announced that they were going away for the holidays . . . I assumed they were going to skip Christmas. You know what happens when you assume. You make an ASS out of U and ME. So now I have to go out and buy Christmas presents for the most impossible people to gift. I mean, what do you get the guy that has a car that cost more than my first home? What do you get the lady that has 3 closets full of name brand clothes? What do you buy brothers who own $5k watches? With one week left, I am knee-deep in doo doo. Help!

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A History Of Trash

Trash, at first, was a pretty cool guy. You know, he’d come over with some beers, and you’d hang out and have a couple of laughs. Maybe Trash brought some weed with him, and you guys tried to sync up Dark Side Of The Moon with The Wizard Of Oz until you remembered you lost your VHS copy of that movie sometime in college and that you fucking hate Pink Floyd. Good times were had, nonetheless.

But then, you don’t know what changed, but Trash started to overstay his welcome. He’d just linger for hours, never taking the hint you wanted him to leave, no matter how many times you yawned obnoxiously or mentioned how early you had to get up tomorrow. Trash just didn’t get it. You were getting older. You didn’t have the time anymore to stay up until 3 a.m. to talk about the Port season of “The Wire” or how much you miss Jawbox. Eventually, you just stopped taking Trash’s phone calls and no longer replied to his group e-mails about sneaking into abandoned mental hospitals.

Last time you saw Trash, he was smoking alone outside a local dive bar, looking down at his decaying and mismatched shoes. You hoped he had been doing well. You hoped he had not been hurt by the disintegration of your friendship. And if he had, you wanted to comfort him. You wanted to tell him that even though people move on with their lives, it doesn’t mean they stop caring. You wanted him to see in your eyes a sincere appreciation for the time you shared, because all the relationships in our lives help make us who we are, and even if you weren’t the best of friends anymore, you wanted him to know that there would always be a piece of Trash in your heart.

But instead, you looked away and crossed the street. You were with your new girlfriend, and you really didn’t want to have to explain Trash to her. She’d never understand.