Patricia?" "That's right." I looked at Amy and Mel. "I can't remember the last time I called Tricia Patricia. She doesn't like it. She thinks it's too stuffy." "Paul now calls her Patricia. Jodie told me he's no longer allowed to call her Tricia. She said Tricia told her she believes slaves shouldn't be allowed to be familiar with their superiors. They always need to remember their place." Mel said, "Damn, Tricia is into this." Nodding, Amy said, "It certainly seems like that. Tell us more." "Tricia didn't treat Paul like a boyfriend, she treated him like a servant. He waited on us the entire time we were there. He brought us wine and appetizers, prepared the dinner, served the dinner, cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen by himself. Tricia never did anything to assist him. When I offered to help Paul Tricia actually stopped me. She explained that Paul was her slave. Serving her and her guests was his duty. Michael, Paul wasn't even permitted to sit at the table and have. Kind of like air going out of a balloon. Where’d it all go? And then it was 365 shopping days until next Christmas. Sure, there was a lot of commercialism, but the whole thing was fun. I don’t doubt for a moment that I might’ve conflated a bunch of actual memories of Christmases past with wishes for what Christmases should have been and created a history that never was, but still. Everybody had a good time with it and eggnog and the Christmas spirit and NOBODY got pissed off if you wished them a Merry Christmas.I am an introvert. A serious introvert. One of nearly the hermit kind. One of my favorite quotes on the subject is by the writer Neal Stephenson: “Where did all these people come from, and how do I make them go away?” What this means as far as Christmas is concerned is that even though I enjoy gift-giving, I absolutely hate crowds.When I was about thirty and single—in days before the Internet—I developed tactics for shopping that made dealing with the crowds easier. I didn’t.
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