Remembrance of Christmases past
Merry Christmas, bitches! Or Happy Holidays if you are one of those assholes. I don’t get offended by any religious greetings from well-wishers. It all basically means something positive so don’t get your panties in a bunch cuz someone says something other than what you celebrate. If someone told me Happy Hanukah, even though I’m not Jewish, I would just say thank you and be appreciative of the good tidings. I don’t need to see a Christmas tree on a red cup to know what Christmas means to me. So to all you uptight, easily offended folks out there, unclench your assholes and loosen up.
Speaking of assholes, I have another Christmas story for you.
Once upon a time, I was a young pretty gayby excited to celebrate Christmas with his first boyfriend. This was B4CN (Before Cassie Nova). His name was Chris and he was cute. He moved in with me on our first date because of his awful mother, the villain in this fairies’ tale. Her name was Giesla (pronounced Geeze-La, like some backwards fancy goose). She was a big, mean, German lady with a very heavy accent. She found out about our date and told Chris that if he went out with me that he could not come home. He was 19 and still lived with her.
With no regard to the fallout from going out with me, he picked me up for our first date. We had a great time, it was exactly what you would want from a first date. We had a nice dinner, we held hands and we made out. I had butterflies. And not once did he mention what his mother had said. When he dropped me off back at my apartment, I told him to call me when he got home. He said, that might be a problem because as of today I am homeless. I was like Whaaaaa? He told me what she said and of course I made him stay with me. I made him sleep on the couch because I really liked him. (FYI, if I didn’t really like him, we would have done it on the first date. I was weird that way.)
Chris lived with me for a month before he and his Smother came to an understanding. He told her he was gay and had a boyfriend and if she couldn’t accept that, then he was gone forever. She said she would try if he would just move back home. I know it just ate her up inside thinking of all the sex her son was having with a guy. It still tickles me.
When Chris first introduced me to his bitch of a mother, she could not hide her disdain for me. She looked at me like I was the half a worm you find when you bite into an infested apple. She said hello to me then yanked him into the other room. She didn’t even try to lower her voice when she told Chris, “This is who you leave me to be with? He look like girl — not even pretty girl! Oh, Chris, you can do so much better!” I was like, who does this bitch think she is? I walked into that other room and told Chris I was leaving. Mom was like, “Why you mad?” as if I hadn’t heard everything she had said about me. So I left and Chris followed.
Chris wanted so badly for me and his mother to get along, and I actually wanted her to like me. I knew how important it was to him, so I decided to make the effort. He asked if I would come over and spend Christmas day with them. It was right after Thanksgiving, so I had less than a month to come up with a gift that she would like and make her like me. My relationship with Chris was getting serious and it looked like we were going to have to deal with each other, whether we liked it or not.
I racked my brain for a gift that an old world German lady might like, then it hit me. My great-grandmother, a very old lady that we called Mummo (I have no idea why we called her that, we just always had) crocheted the most beautiful blankets. I thought that would be perfect. Her blankets took a while to make so I got her the yarn in the colors of Giesla’s bedroom immediately. Her bedroom colors were an awful shade of mauve and peach but I figured that old bitch is gonna love it … and, by default, love me.
I knew that this much thought, effort and planning would win her over.
It usually takes months to make a queen-sized crocheted blanket, so Mummo got help from every family member that could crochet. At one point, about a week before Christmas, my mom told me that poor arthritic Mummo had been working almost nonstop with help from my grandma and a couple of my aunts to get this blanket made in time. Thinking back on this memory makes me miss that old lady. Our Mummo could be mean but family was everything to her. She could have easily said “no” to making that blanket, but she made it a priority just because I asked.
I picked up the blanket on Christmas Eve and it was beautiful. I found a big box, wrapped it and put a huge bow on it. Chris told me his mother was going to love it. I couldn’t wait for her to open it and see how much love went into this awesome gift.
Chris’s mother told him exactly what she wanted for Christmas: Carolina Hererra perfume. So he got her this beautiful gift set of the perfume she had asked for. It also had powder and body wash or something like that. It was not cheap, especially for a 19-year-old. I remember we had to drive to three different malls looking for the stuff. He was so relieved and excited when we finally found it. He knew his mother was going to love her gifts and his boyfriend and his mother were finally going to like each other. He said it was going to be a memorable Christmas. And it was.
We showed up on Christmas morning and I went into it with a great attitude. That did not last. She was mean to Chris. She called him an idiot for spilling eggnog on his sweater. She called him an idiot for unwrapping a gift the “wrong way.” (Apparently she wanted to save the wrapping paper but couldn’t because he ripped into his gift like a “fucking idiot!” Her words.)
Chris, trying to put his mother in a better mood, told her to open the gift he got for her. She opened it and yelled, “Oh no no no Christian, you fucking idiot, I told you I wanted the big bottle!” I was appalled. Poor Chris just said he was sorry and he would take it back and get it right next time. He said, “Just wait till you see what James got you, you are going to love it.” I shook my head and said, “No she ain’t. I didn’t get her anything! I completely forgot to get you anything. Sorry. I must be an idiot, too.” Chris looked at me and I just shook my head. She did not deserve to get such a great gift from anyone.
That was one of the longest afternoons of my life. The food was awful and the conversation was worse. I am not a good actress and could not fake a good mood — I tried, but my overly dramatic eye rolls give so much away.
When I got home, I called Mummo and told her I loved the blanket way too much to give it to anyone. I told her I would keep it forever and even now, on cold nights, I still use it. It is not the prettiest of colors but it is one of my most prized possessions.
Chris and I were not together long after that Christmas. I hope he was eventually able to distance himself from his Grinch and find some happiness. I know I did. Happy New Year, everybody!
Love more, bitch less and be fabulous! XOXO, Cassie Nova
If you have a question of comment, email it to AskCassieNova@gmail.com.
This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition December 25, 2015.