Marriage Diaries is a column by Telegraph Family in which people share snapshots of their relationships and their dilemmas. It is published every Wednesday
My husband has never bought me a Christmas present
I’m not asking for diamonds, cashmere or even Manolo Blahniks. Some shower gel would be nice, or a china mug to replace my chipped one. Or some slinky tights to pep up the same old dress I wear on Christmas day every year. But I know, to quote my husband’s favourite Bob Dylan track, I’m blowing in the wind to even hope for any of these as gifts.
He has never, during our 30-year marriage (except, I think possibly the very first year when I got sexy underwear and chocolates), bought me anything for Christmas. Nothing wrapped that I can open. And I don’t really understand why.
The reasons he gives sound rational. He says that Christmas is a load of old commercial hokum. He loathes being expected to conform to some made up tradition, and be forced to spend money just for the sake of opening presents on a certain, random day in the year. He’s the same with Easter Eggs but, oddly, not birthdays when he’s quite generous.
He says he hates Christmas full stop and would rather go abroad or have a Chinese takeaway. Yet he loves it when all our young adult children come home with their partners, laden with food and presents (he’s happy to receive).
He helps them decorate the tree, play charades and he’s very territorial about cooking the turkey and carving it. He watches the Queens speech religiously, and enforces church attendance and Boxing Day walks.
Throughout our marriage, I have always ‘done’ Christmas. I’ve carefully sourced and bought the presents and wrapped them for everyone (we keep our earnings separate, I pay for all this). I do all the card writing, tree ordering and house decorating. I pay for all the food. He does, I will concede, buy the booze.
But I get nothing.
Over the years we’ve had stupendous rows about this, and I’m made to feel stupid and shallow and materialistic. One year I went on strike, but it was so horrible (he went out for the day and came back late) I decided to just carry on.
When the children were young, I bought myself little bits to open and pretended they were from him, because I couldn’t bear the children to see how mean he was. He colluded in this, smiling benignly as I warmly thanked him, which made me grateful and furious all at the same time.
Nowadays, I just say to the kids that he and I are past all that and he’ll get me something I choose in the January sales. And I know he will, because he likes a bargain and to feel he’s not been ripped off by the Christmas conspiracy, as he calls it.
But it’s not the same.
Women, rightly or wrongly, see gifts from their partner as representing how much they are loved. I know this is stupid, and not true, but if my husband knows how important it is to me to simply have a little something to unwrap, why won’t he just stump up for a box of milk tray?
He buys me beautiful flowers on my birthday and for most of the year I don’t think about this at all, but as Christmas approaches, I’m filled with apprehension and sadness.
I’d just love to wake up on that special morning with a pretty present wrapped in lovely ribbon to open. I genuinely wouldn’t mind what is inside.
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