For 20 years, I did not have a lover/sex partner during the holidays. That "drought" stretched back to include my years as a high school student and college student. You might say "It would take a miracle for a college kid to not have a sexual encounter during the holidays"... but such an occurrence happened, year after year. Being gay in the pre-internet suburbs of Long Island was a desolate experience. No romance, kisses under mistletoe, holding hands, snuggling while watching holiday movies, cooking together, gift-giving, or festive activities that other couples enjoy. I was single/alone for 20 holiday seasons: Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years. I was 33 years-old when I finally had a lover during Christmastime.
It finally changed when I met Lewis: the "love of my life" and my soulmate!
I was born into a small family, so my childhood Christmases were not brimming with jovial relatives or a whirlwind of guests. My parents were unaware of their "immigrant ancestry", and I don't know any of my European relations. After only several years, three of my grandparents were dead. I know nothing of my paternal grandmother's family, and my maternal grandmother's family did not associate with us. My remaining grandfather's sister died young, so there are no relatives from that half of my heritage. He died when I started attending high school. My mother is an only-child. My father's brother divorced/abandoned his wife and child. He remains aloof. My bad-tempered father has few friends. His father had two brothers; those uncles and aunts were active in my life. But their children were not: one relocated to New Mexico, another relocated to Alaska, another remained secluded with her own family on Long Island, and the fourth remained as a single "party girl" whom I saw occasionally. One aunt had a brother, and his family provided fun holidays at their home in Queens, NY. My own sister was rebellious and diverted from festivities, and she kept her friends and boyfriends away from our home.
Despite growing up in a decidedly-Caucasian world with prejudiced parents, I miraculously matured to exhibit a mindset of acceptance. As such, my home and dinner table welcomed people of many nationalities, creeds, religions, political parties, and heritages. I do not exclude guests because of their sexual preference, waist size, skin color, or financial status. Doing so is not the "spirit of the season".
I treated all of them to a fun and festive meals at my home.
The young man whom I had my first committed relationship with--and who pretended to have it so it benefited him--crudely ended our "boyfriend status" before that year's upcoming holiday season. He calculated that maneuver so he could be free to have sex with many other "lonely gay guys" in New York City. (I still resided on Long Island at that time--which was like being on another planet in that era).
My paternal grandmother died was I was an infant. My paternal grandfather died when I was a boy. Around the same time, my maternal grandmother died on the day before Christmas Eve. I was 6-years-old. My maternal grandfather lived for 10 more years and made great Christmas memories with me... until his final years when he grumpily detested it. The remainder of my small extended-family included 9 relatives.
Many kids have model train sets at Christmastime. I built one with my grandfather's help, and we agilely avoided my abusive father's "need to oversee everything". But towards the end of my grandfather's life, my domineering father took control... and broke it. Then, each Christmas, my father left it broken in our home... saying that he intended to repair it but never did... until I threw it away.
By the time I was enrolled in college, my parents didn't care if our family had a Christmas tree or not. My father was secretly planning to divorce my mother (at Thanksgiving) and save his money until he could buy his own "dream home". Meanwhile, my mother was never reliable with money or planning. (My parents were as helpful as unconscious elephants). So, if I wanted a tree, I bought one and erected it myself... and decorated it myself. I always had fun doing it.
On my own, I used a ladder to hang lights on our house, and enter crawl-spaces in our home's eves to fetch interior decorations. I always hoped to meet an attractive guy at the Christmas tree lots, garden nurseries, or department stores... but I never did.
Year after year, my "basic-minded" parents intended to use paper plates, plastic utensils, and disposable cups to celebrate Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and New Year's Eve. Fearful of using anything fancy--so they wouldn't break it--they rarely used the crystal stemware (service for 12 people) that my grandparents bought them as a wedding gift. When my mother inherited $45,000 worth of sterling silver flatware and silver serving pieces, she intended to ignore it in a box. Instead, I cleaned it, put it to use, and gave it life again.
It gave relatives, coworkers, and friends the most memorable holidays of their lives. In fact, yesterday, a friend from 20 years ago called to tell me that he always remembers Christmas feasts at my home: the candlelight, table settings, music, and liveliness! They are still his best memories. :-)
During college, my part-time job paid for my train/plane travels home for each Holiday Break, because my parents refused to financially help me come home. Unlike how other families reunited for the holidays...
nobody welcomed me home at the train station or airport. Each year, I paid for taxis to take me to my own doorstep.
That changed when I began utilizing the inherited finery from my maternal grandparents to have Christmas parties for my uncles, aunts, and my aunt's brother's family. They were thrilled when I returned home during my Holiday Breaks from college because they anticipated a grand soirée.
However, I did all the work: housecleaning, decorating, hanging exterior lights, cleaning the fireplace, buying/bringing home the Christmas tree, putting up the 8-foot tree inside the house, polishing the silver, purchasing food, cooking, serving, mixing drinks, clearing the table, dish washing, cleaning up, and putting everything away. I worked two jobs to save money for all of it.
The second year, I outdid myself by procuring a pricey-yet-delectable Tarte Tropézienne, flown in from Saint-Tropez in the French-Riviera!
I don't do gracious things with expectations of rewards. But I was disappointed when my uncle/aunt--who loved that cake--reciprocated by gifting me a bundle of batteries. Yes, that was their Christmas gift to me. Perhaps they forgot to buy me a present until the last-minute... but they said that the batteries were intended for my gadgets.
Those soirées were well-regarded as a highlight of the year, and far-flung cousins made journeys to visit us! My cousin and his fiancée flew 9.5 hours from Alaska (nicknamed The Last Frontier and located in the Arctic) to see us.
My other cousin flew 5 hours from New Mexico. My godfather returned from his hunting trip in Saskatchewan, Canada, to be there.
(He preferred Canada because he could hunt on Crown Lands. As a Commonwealth Realm with Queen Elizabeth as its Head of State, 89% of the land is owned by The Crown, and much of it is strongly protected as Nature Preserves). As a gift, he brought venison steaks and bear meat for roasting. I enjoyed them.
Some people get frantic and anxious when hosting sit-down dinner parties for 14 guests... but not me. Only in my 20s, I exhibited unflappable aplomb and created superb moments.
Perpetually self-centered, my sister abandoned that party within the first hour. Near its end, her "loser" boyfriend wanted free food and enticed her to bring him to our home for the first time. Plying on a "Christmastime sense of charity", that party-crasher was let in by my parents. He rudely ignored everyone and stuffed himself with booze and food. As un ungrateful guest, he complained loudly about my jazzy Christmas carols, which launched my racist father into a tirade of hatred against jazz because it originated with "black people". Both of my great-uncles (his father's brothers) were needed to restore order. It was a mess amidst my efforts towards cheer. As a finale of obstinance, my sister's boyfriend showed a photograph of his penis to my female cousin, and then he left.
*The year of my graduation, he and my sister robbed $3,000 from my father, stole my mother's credit cards, and used them for a joyride to his aunt's home in Florida. She didn't return for 10 years, and never answered my letters, messages, or calls.
Alas, during my preparation for that soirée, the cute boy whom I really liked in college (who also lived on Long Island) suddenly rang my doorbell and invited me to the movies. With the party occurring on the next day, I sweetly asked him to please choose another night. He glumly agreed but was he unavailable during the remainder of our holiday-break. I repeatedly tried to spend time with him, but he was busy. By the time that we returned to campus and began our winter semester, I discovered that he was already "involved" with another boy in our dorm, instead of me. Thus, making my relatives' holiday special (who all relocated out-of-state during the next year) caused me to miss my chance with that guy (who attended a different university, the next year).
During my sophomore year, I entertained my 5 college roommates at my home. Inviting them to my home during Christmastime was initially fun, and I cooked a splendid meal. Deducing that I was gay, they became reclusive from me and told me that I could not live with them in the next year.
In my junior year of college, I invited more friends to my home for a charming Christmas dinner (that I prepared myself). The gay one--whom I had a crush on--decided that I was "outside his league" and despite my assurances that I didn't dislike a simpler type of dinner, he avoided me. Another fellow grew envious of my home (unknowing that it was otherwise full abuse and misery) and assumed that I lived a privileged life... which was furthest from the truth. He actually stopped being my friend because of the nice dinner that he had at my home.
Before graduation, I invited a supposedly-heterosexual friend who seemed to be coyly interested in me. He was my houseguest during our holiday break. No matter how I tried to finesse the mood, he couldn't allow himself to be intimate with me. Yet, he had no delay to start "fooling around" with my provocative sister (who was consequently cheating on her boyfriend).
During one December, I tried an online dating website and began messaging a young man. At that time, he was with his family in Texas for Christmas. Our steamy correspondence led to a dinner-date, when he returned to NYC. After taking me to bed, he callously informed me that I was merely "something to keep him occupied while with his family". He said, "Now that I'm back in NYC, there are plenty of guys, so I won't see you again because I don't see the same guy twice." Such a gift!
I tried "going out" with a guy who seemed bisexual but claimed to be "on the down low". Each of our rendezvous were a secret and never in public.
When the holidays came, he quickly rejected me because he couldn't miss the opportunity to have as many girls as he wanted--who were lonely during the holidays and seeking a boy to accompany them to their family get-togethers.
When I worked at a restaurant and the miserly owners refused any type of end-of-year party, I saved my disgruntled coworkers by inviting them to my home for a Tree Trimming party, where we cooked together. That night, two coworkers became a romantic couple... thanks to my cozy ambiance.
Alas, the bi-curious young guy I liked only built up the courage to "be with me" in January... but he "returned to girls" because they were more convenient and socially-acceptable.
After my father finally left our family, my mother entreated me to make our home festive and buoyant. Dutifully, I believed her and strove tirelessly... only to realize that I was being used to make her life more luxurious, at the expense of me having my own life.
Despite my excellent fundraising efforts to collect the most donations at my workplace for St. Jude's Children Hospital and Save The Children Charity, I was financially overburdened and swindled by my back-stabbing parents for several years.
I invited office coworkers--and a Vice President whom I wanted to work for--to my home for a pot-luck Christmas party. Everyone complimented my flair for entertaining as the best they had seen in years. Those people all got transferred to other jobs, so I didn't interact with them again. That boss did not hire me; he chose the blonde woman in my team (whom he was sleeping with).
Throughout my tenure at four workplaces, I invited 20 members of management--ranging from assistant managers to vice presidents--to my home for dinners. It is a brave thing to host your boss in your home. I did my best to show capability, coordination, finesse, and impressiveness. They gobbled the food and guzzled the wine, but none of them helped my career.
At another job, I had the misfortune to get transferred to the least-desirable section, immediately after Christmas. Jealous that she saw her supervisor hand me a cup of coffee at my desk (the supervisor made it with a new mini-coffeemaker)...
...my boss transferred me to a different--and badly outdated--building. My new desk was in the basement.
I sat with the most piggish and resentful person on our team. For 10 months, she let him do nothing (he did online shopping) while dumping all the work on me--and punishing me for any errors... until I proved her torture via the surveillance camera footage.
While taking ballroom dance lessons, I invited my leggy male instructor to my home for a holiday-time dinner. My mother made him feel so uncomfortable that I never heard from him again. It was discouraging that my openhearted hospitality could not entice him to make the effort.
When our church's Assistant Pastor cozied up to my mother and I, I considered him as a friend. He was a presence of dapper politeness in our unhappy home. My mother's typical notion was to serve crappy fast-food from McDonald's because it was cheap and easy. His classy idea was to pop a champagne cork to celebrate the holidays. Alas, he recoiled from my mother's ongoing behavior and avoided my home. Eventually, he moved to California.
During my famous Christmas soirées, I concocted a delicious punch recipe. Guests had never experienced a silver punchbowl and were thrilled with the presentation and flavor: subtle strength mixed with sweetness.
Year after year, I hoped that my elixir might "loosen up" the "bisexual/gay-curious/closeted" guys that I invited. I hoped for a kiss under the mistletoe. Did it happen? No.
I invested decades of participation in Sunday School, First Communion, Confirmation, donating my time to volunteer as an acolyte (altar boy), crucifer, usher, lector, communion assistant, member of the choir, editor of church monthly newsletter (and its main writer, photographer and layout editor), member of Stewardship Committee, member of Long Range Planning Committee, member of Oktoberfest Planning, and conference delegate. Yet, as soon as I declared that I was homosexual, I was shunned by my pastor, his wife, the Church Council, and the congregation. All of my good deeds and tireless contribution were nullified. They stopped answering my calls and emails, and when my mother kicked me out of home, falsely accused me of a felony, and began prosecution--which nearly bankrupted me... my church never offered me support. No advice, no pastoral care, no "care packages", no professional guidance (from any of the dozens of lawyers or business executives) and no assistance. Viewed as a sinner "in the eyes of God", those merciless people acted as if I never existed. (Yet, they routinely mailed me letters--at each of my new addresses--that asked me for money donations)!
At least I know that my good deeds helped other people, during those 25 years.
Despite my years of fundraising, food drives, clothing drives, and charity work as a Boy Scout and a member of the congregation, when I was penniless and hungry, that church--the richest Lutheran one on Long Island--did not charitably offer me a food basket or even (free) mental support. For several months--including the holiday season--I subsisted for nearly all meals on oatmeal and pasta. Nobody in the huge congregation--who all knew me--contacted me or offered help.
The choirmaster forgot how I did fundraising for him and helped his mentally-unstable son. The parish secretary forgot how I helped her feeble husband. The Church Council forgot my money-collecting successes, brilliant strategies (considering my young age), and publicity successes. Committee chairpeople forgot how my editorship of the newsletter boosted their donations and activities. The new assistant pastor forgot how I helped him get oriented when he moved into the area (before the church gave him a Mercedes). None offered me any type of sentiment or consideration. Yet, my phone number and email address remained unchanged, so any of the 2,000 members could've contacted me.
Despite eating dozens of my home-cooked meals, my affluent pastor and his wife never reached out to me with any type of support--not even during the Christmas "season of giving" that they preached about... not even a consoling telephone call. Seen below, they were too busy overstuffing themselves at their own sumptuous dinner table. I was easily forgotten because I was inconvenient.
Regardless of that, I walked through the new area where I found an affordable home (in my moth-eaten coat and shoes with holes in the soles), and I still donated things during the holidays--and during the colder months--for people who lived worse than me.
In recent years, Lewis and I volunteered alongside his coworker at a church's Soup Kitchen to prepare meals for homeless people. 'Tis the season for charity of heart.
One year, Lewis and I treated his friend to a feast for New Year's Eve at a splashy Manhattan restaurant, replete with musicians and noisemakers. We celebrated because she agreed to recommend me for a job at her company. She quietly accepted our generosity, yet she gave the job to her other friend (which she pre-arranged 20 days earlier).
I endured a heartbreaking experience of "losing" all of the Christmas mementos that I received through my years: some that I made by hand in art classes, many that I saved money to purchase, as well as one-of-a-kind decorations that I bought during my travels. I lost them when my mother threw me out of home for being gay (and for me realizing that she was illegally swindling an elderly woman to pay for her life). My scheming mother falsely charged with a felony and achieved an Order of Protection to prevent me from returning home. I did not return home... and I said goodbye to all of those things that brightened each Christmas. (She only allowed me to leave with things that I had receipts for). It all happened so suddenly that it was like losing everything in a disastrous fire. Hate was the underlying motivation from my own mother.
Photographs and images give me fond memories of how my former mementos fascinated people and brightened their Christmases in that house that I enlivened.
Soon enough, new ornaments came into my life. It's good to learn to "let go", and I'm a less materialistic person (compared to most Americans).
During the first year in my own apartment, my boyfriend abandoned me before Halloween, and my roommate spent the holidays with her Irish parents. "Money challenges" got worse, and I spent each night alone... without enough funds for a Christmas tree. I could only afford to buy one $6 bottle of eggnog as the only holiday treat for myself... while my greedy/cheap landlord refused to supply heat to my apartment during the coldest winter in 50 years.
A year later, as things improved, I tried dating a fellow in Manhattan, and it went well until his prior boyfriend wanted to reunite with him before the holidays began. Consequently, the fellow ejected me from his life.
During my tenure at a luxury-oriented company, the only Holiday Party that I witnessed in 7 years was the one that I helped the management orchestrate (because I knew the owner of a local restaurant). I was assigned the duty of planning the party. Some people dread being put in charge of their company/workplace Holiday Party, but I smoothly overcame all obstacles and logistics. Everyone had a great time.
After that, our company's billionaire owner eliminated end-of-year parties from the budget. Other employee benefits deteriorated and became worse, too. Eventually, the cheap billionaire told his thousands of global employees that if they wanted an end-of-year/holiday party, they had to make their own food and celebrate "outside of working hours". Our work hours were already extended for the holidays, so it made it less convenient to have a party. Undaunted, I helped my team concoct a pot-luck meal at our job. Everyone arrived two hours before work began on Christmas Eve, so we could have some merriment and eat together.
The next year at that job, I tried creating a nicer mood by hosting pot-luck meals at my home as Tree Trimming Parties to give a boost of Christmas cheer to my underpaid and overburdened colleagues. Unlike other people, I didn't merely invite those who could boost my career; I'm not a "brown-nose". Showing respect for my colleagues, I invited everyone, from the lowest ranks to the director. People who worked for the company for 18 years declared that my home provided the most merriment they ever saw!
Alas, each year, the company terminated the employment of those longtime employees as short-term cost-cutting tactics. Since they were fired in January, those Christmases were the last times that we got together.
The only end-of-year gift that the billionaire gave his employees was a loaf of sweet bread called panettone. It cost him nothing because his family owned the baking facility in Italy. Meanwhile, he ensured that his store-level retail employees were terminated if their incomes were large (from decades of loyalty to the company). He also (illegally) fired people if they didn't open enough new Credit Card applications, each month. Thus, his "gift" was the equivalence of the callous expression, "Let them eat cake".
In fact, working in retail in America practically guarantees people (at the store level) to have miserable, overtaxed, overworked, badly-treated holidays. I endured 12 years of that at 4 unappreciative companies, and it was identical everywhere.
One of my NYC retail jobs shocked me. It involved a posh Christmas party that transformed into the termination of our store manager for embezzlement! Evidently, that manager detested the corrupt company's bad treatment of employees, so he stole from it for himself and to pretend that he paid for our party. This is a photo of our dinner at a restaurant called One If By Land, Two If By Sea. I was glad to leave that company.
In another year (at another job), I debonairly invited my supervisor and his spouse to my home for a holiday feast. I wanted to achieve a good impression from him. Instead, the insecure man snubbed me thereafter because he thought my home was more elegant than his own.
A positive result of that night was my Jewish coworker who developed a love for Christmas carols because my collection had the snazziest ones that she ever heard! After 8 years, she still messages me to wish a Merry Christmas, and I wish her a Happy Hanukah.
Each year, the company that Lewis worked for--a luxury retailer on Madison Avenue--dwindled its budget for his store's Holiday Party. After two years, it was very low: they only allotted $20 PER PERSON! How do you have dinner in Manhattan for $20 per person?! (especially when each employee generated millions of dollars of profits for the company). Meanwhile, they lavished money on themselves for a refurbished corporate headquarters and a series of Executive Retreats. Employees reverted to someone's apartment for camaraderie and bought their own refreshments.
Lewis joined another company, which was the second-most prominent luxury merchandise maker in the world. To see how the greedy company annually reduced the budget for Holiday Parties, please use this link:
During that same time, the high-end company that I worked for (owned by a finance firm) decided to cancel funds for all Holiday Parties. I suggested to other members of my management team that we--since we earned the most--compile our own funds to host a modest party for the staff. My boss scoffed at me. Then, he said, "Since you have such festive ideas, you can arrange whatever party you want--as long as people pay for everything themselves." Simultaneously, the greedy company wasted money on itself to buy a new (and immensely expensive) headquarters on Fifth Avenue.
Not surprisingly, my boss also told me NOT to give any of my subordinates a favorable end-of-year review because "They might expect pay raises or bonuses for their good work". I was shocked because he was a director (10-years at the company) of one of America's most prominent retailers. His terrible viewpoint was reinforced by the arrogant Chief Financial Officer. (Yes, I gave my team the good reviews that they earned).
Nonetheless, I still persevere in my belief of being good-natured and setting a good example for others.
At my previous job (of 2 years), both of its Holiday Parties were scenes of sexual harassment that caused rude men to be fired by the Human Resources Department.
The neighborhood of Astoria, in Queens, has a population of 95,000 people. While residing there for 9 years, I never saw Christmas carolers, except one effort that quickly lacked support and consequently disintegrated after the next year. Seen below, that is what they looked like for that brief period. Evidently, tens of thousands of other people don't care.
During another terrible year of financial obstacles, I did my best to provide a homey Christmas evening for a few friends. As many rude Americans do, all but one person cancelled at the last-minute... and I realized how I wasted my funds/efforts, which deprived me of more things.
As if it were a karmic reward, a coworker took me as his guest to the grand Christmastime buffet at the 4-star Garden City Hotel.
A married couple suffered from failing health and were not helped by the wealthy company that they worked at for 17 and 15 years respectively. They were also taken advantage of by America's for-profit healthcare system and a (typical) heartless NYC landlord. Despite that, they remained open-hearted and gathered people of all cultures under their roof for a Christmas get-together. As their friend, I did my best to collect donations for them. Their situation got gravely worse until they lost all sense of independence and accepted charitable help.
Through such experiences, I learned a valuable lesson:
In stark contrast, Lewis and I were invited to a gay couple's holiday dinner merely because we looked good enough to make their party seem posh.
During another dinner with them, they chided us because the clothes that we wore weren't from luxury designers. They only wanted to see us when we looked a certain way. They actually ignored us and talked amongst themselves or looked at their iPhones. (Sadly, it's a commonplace snub that NYC gay men give to people who aren't as attractive as they desire). We left early and did not return.
Another year, we were lured to a so-called friend's party, but then we discovered that we were merely used to fill empty chairs at her table. Those seats were empty because she treated her "friends" badly, and they didn't attend her party. After our treatment from her, we did not return the next year, either. It's amazing how people can be selfish, instead of willing to change.
During my time as a single, gay man in New York City, I witnessed years fraught with depressing "users": men who lie to you so they have companionship during the holidays--to avoid loneliness--but they end the relationship when the holidays end.
With 8.5 million residents, New York City is the self-proclaimed capital of Musical Theatre, yet it has astoundingly few Christmas sing-a-long events. The few that exist are certainly not free, as they are in other cities. It is anguishing for Lewis and I to try and attend the SINGULAR event at a particular place--but miss it, due to our work schedules. With such a lack of abundance, if you miss that one event, you must wait until the next year! Unlike America, the biggest cities in other countries abound with Yuletide cheer and singing throughout the merry month of December.
Saint Thomas Fifth Avenue is the only church--of hundreds in NYC--that provides a full calendar of Advent and Christmas events in December: festal evensong, afternoon carols, evening caroling, a pageant, and the Festival of Nine Lessons & Carols (which they offer twice, in case you miss one!). Typical of NYC greed, many churches charge money as admittance fees to attend their Lessons & Carols (which should always be free). St. Thomas is based on British hospitality, and that explains why they are so festive and open-handed, whilst wealthier NYC churches offer only one Advent/Christmas event. 92% of NYC congregations are as blasé at Christmas as the rest of the year. Thank heaven for St. Thomas' Choir of Men & Boys, organists, ushers, and English-born rector.
Each year, Lewis and I fought the increased crowds/mayhem on Fifth Avenue, and unchanged subway problems that greedy NYC creates in December... because finding that single niche in NYC--where the spirit of the season was alive--was special for us.
Despite its international population, NYC fails to have places where you can obtain authentic Christmastime recipes from other countries. If you want factory-made cakes full of artificial ingredients and high-fructose corn syrup, America has plenty. However, only two places in all of NYC sell mincemeat pie.
Out of thousands of liquor stores, NYC has only one that sells advocaat: a creamy European eggnog with Dutch origins. Lewis and I love advocaat.
Despite a huge Hispanic population in NYC, if you want to find Coquito (a Latin American version of eggnog), you must find somebody who makes it independently and sells/gives it to you. Meanwhile, supermarkets are inundated with crappy American-made eggnog: full of corn syrup solids, bleached sugar, food coloring, hormone-treated factory-made eggs, and GMO milk from unhealthily processed cows.
Exemplifying American capitalism, NYC hungrily misleads people to visit it during the holidays. Instead of expanding its level of hospitality/service, it merely sucks people in, rudely offers the same infrastructure failures and bad levels of service, and then it hurries them out to make space for new people. "Hurry in, pay us, and leave." "Hurry in, give us money, and leave."
Whereas other "big cities" decorate abundantly and festively for the holidays, New York City decorates itself the least... and uses dilapidated, outdated ornaments. Despite being America's richest city, New York City begrudgingly hoards its wealth and--just like Ebenezer Scrooge--gives very little to its people. It costs more to live in NYC than any other city, yet visitors/citizens get the least.
To see a true comparison, please use this link:
In typical style, NYC price-gouges its citizens and visitors relentlessly... without compassion for the holidays. Prices soar for run-down theaters, hyped-up hotels, outdated airports, stores with bad customer service, filthy ride-share cars, and restaurants that lie about their inferior ingredients and illegal kitchen laborers. Luckily, Lewis and I researched for a gem that is untainted in Manhattan. For the previous three years, we dined on Park Avenue for Christmastime meals. The restaurant is named Aquavit, and it earned 2-Michelin stars.
It maintains a sleekly elegant ambiance, with courteous service, and it specializes in a value-priced Christmas feast: an unlimited smorgasbord of the kitchen's superior recipes. Operated by a Swede who understands customer service and hospitality, its popularity and excellence began 33 years ago, and he doesn't rely on typical NYC gimmicks or price rip-offs. Also from the Kingdom of Sweden, his chef, Emma Thompson, is one of the few women in chauvinistic America whose restaurant won Michelin stars. Lewis and I are convinced that it's the only eatery in NYC that offers a good value at that level... and it refuses to price-gouge during the holidays.
Last Christmas, we gave our best efforts to assist someone whom we thought was a new friend, as she searched for an apartment in our neighborhood of Astoria. Without us, the unprepared woman would've gotten stuck in a typical overpriced/miserable apartment. She overspent on realtors and "search companies", until I showed her how people really find apartments. Before the pandemic, most apartments in NYC were leased the same day that they went on the market as available. We took her to Aquavit, to celebrate her new home and being our "neighbor". To start a new year of prosperity, we also gifted her a pricey housewarming assortment of home-goods. Nevertheless, she jilted us for a new-found lover... cancelling us at the last minute several times--including a weekend getaway that we planned. We stopped being friendly with her, and she didn't seem to notice.
Our Parisian restauranteur friend, Jean-Claude Baker, loved Christmastime. He adored plum pudding, Christmas ornaments, Epiphany cakes (with hidden figurines), and carols. We lunched and dined with him throughout the year at his NYC apartment and his restaurant named Chez Josephine. We were the guys whom he wanted to socialize with after long days operating his restaurant. He confided to us that working in NYC's aura of corruption and problems for so long tired him and frustrated him. Certain things never improved. He lacked the desire "restart" elsewhere. Each New Year's Day, we lunched with him and bolstered him with our positive outlook on life. Alas, after a "lifetime" working in Manhattan, he committed suicide, soon after Epiphany in 2015.
For two consecutive years, Lewis and I were lured to a (supposed) friend's home to decorate it for Christmas. The man lived on Long Island, inconveniently 2 hours away from us. Using the dirty/slow/expensive commuter railroad (a monopoly since its beginning)...
...we journeyed there--bringing food, music, and cheer. The first year, we set up his 10-foot-tall artificial tree. We cooked dinner together, watched a holiday-themed movie on TV, and stayed overnight. Abruptly in the morning, he told us that we had to leave immediately after breakfast because his family was coming to his home and he didn't want them to see a gay couple. Feeling crestfallen, we departed and tried to understand his situation. Yet, the next year, after we arrived, he suddenly announced that there was no dinner, except for pizza. He also told us that we had to return home via the Night Train (which took an hour to arrive at the station). That was the last time that we tried to spread holiday cheer at his ungrateful home.
One year, Lewis and I invested tons of time coordinating a Tree Trimming house-party in Westchester... only to see it sabotaged by the guests' ranting, tempers, feuds, impoliteness, and selfishness. One guest made a rude duplication of what he did the last time we were together: he suddenly insisted on going home. The man who put himself in charge of "cooking" forgot half of his ingredients, needed two trips to the supermarket (20 minutes away), left his wallet at the store, and insisted on remaking his eggnog. He told me to go to great efforts to procure a plum pudding for the host, which I did (nearly impossible to find in NYC: the land of hamburgers). As I served it perfectly, the host told me that he disliked plum pudding and would never want me to bring one. Then, the host forgot to ask his handyman to bring his huge artificial tree up from the cellar. Lewis and I were asked to do it... which ripped my favorite jeans. We spent too much time quelling people's tantrums. It was almost a waste of the precious vacation days that Lewis and I applied to attend it (American companies notoriously give the fewest vacation days in the world). We managed to make good memories anyway.
An older gay couple invited Lewis and I to see the NYC Botanical Garden Christmas Train Show. It is widely publicized. Since December is a "blackout month" in American retail, we asked our respective bosses for the same day off (since we can't use vacation days). Unfortunately, the day was spent waiting on long lines to enter the pricey event.... which featured very few trains! In fact, they ought to call it the Model Skyscraper Show, because the focus was on miniature replicas of NYC's buildings, made out of twigs and acorns. Sure, that was impressive, but we spent our time/money to see model trains... and there were much less than the advertisements suggested. Typical of most NYC events, it was all hype/publicity and no substance. All four of us were disappointed. The day was gone, and it was dark by the time we got home (through never-ending NY traffic).
On the topic of deprivation of "days off", if you work in America in a job that interacts with consumers, you will sadly be expected to tolerate less perks. Companies in America don't care. Here's an example. Years ago, I started a new job; it was a corporate role, but in Client Services. Therefore, the company thought that it was alright to deprive my team of the quantity of "days off" that everyone else at Corporate was entitled to. Aside from vacation days, most corporate employees were given 14 paid days off (for holidays and civic observances like Martin Luther King Day, Presidents Day, Indigenous People's Day, and New Year's Eve. My team at Client Services only got half of that: 7 paid days off. Everyone else at Corporate Headquarters received 4-day weekends for Thanksgiving and Christmas. We didn't. Furthermore, everyone else at Corporate got 6 "early dismissal" days--paid for a full day but going home at 2PM, on the days before holidays. We did not get that perk. We were not compensated in any way. We worked more, got less privileges than our peers, and the global billion-dollar company's American management did not care. Instead of rewarding the employees who faced their clients, the corporate executives made rules that punished us for having that role. It is commonplace in the USA... yet employers seem perplexed why they don't have great customer-facing experiences.
It's not a fun way to endure the holidays.
The next year, that company further stripped away holidays, so the Client Services team only got 3 paid holidays off from work in a year! Only three for a whole year! That is worse than a third-world country. They paid overtime for making the employees work on the other four holidays that they were initially entitled to. Yet, that does not invigorate an overworked team (while everyone else in the corporate headquarters received 14 paid holidays or had "paid time off" between Christmas Eve and New Years Day).
Living in overpriced/low-quality NYC creates yearly scenarios of seeing which friends choose to relocate elsewhere for a better life. Many times, their choices occur at the end of the year. Since it is the decent people who leave (to avoid NYC's filth and corruption), we lose like-minded companions annually.
To see the bright side, Lewis and I consequently realize that we have friends in many places around the world. As they relay their happier experiences elsewhere, it reinforces our own decisions. As soon as our jobs can help with an international transfer (or we get it on our own), we'll escape, too. While we're here, the "Spirit of the Season" is to do good and charitable deeds--without expecting reciprocation. (Karmically, it might come later). If more people behaved that way, we'd have a nicer society.
Watch this short video...
Through each year, Lewis and I keep our spirits full of cheer, and we strive to contribute to making the world better. After all of my experiences, if I can do it, so can you. :-)
Relatedly, please click on these links for more festive insights:
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