The film Last Christmas was recently released in the UK and is tenuously based on the Wham song of the same name.
Unfortunately, for me, that song brings back some painful memories of a failed teenage relationship.
During my college years, where, having spent weeks enjoying the company of a girl, I finally decided to stride confidently onto the dance-floor at the Christmas disco to ask her to be my proper girlfriend, only to find the object of my desire snogging the face off Richard “the cad” Lord.
“Hello? Over here! How can you miss me when I’m sitting in the shop window of “Good Guys ‘R’ Us”? I thought.
And even now I think, just because you went on to get married; celebrate your Silver Wedding Anniversary, have 4 children together, have a large property portfolio, drive a Lamborghini each, have 8 holidays a year and took early retirement to Spain, doesn’t mean you were ever right to dump me!
What the hell were you thinking?
Luckily, I’m not bitter, I don’t hold grudges and I’ve moved on… Obviously.
Back to the story…
Two broken doors later, I found myself sitting with my fellow social misfits in “The Room Of The Dumped,” counting and comparing the size of our emotional scars and donning life-jackets for the imminent arrival of our floods of tears.
We listened to Wham’s Last Christmas – on repeat, at volume 130 – on Colin’s “Ministry Of Sound” size stereo system, sharing around a small box of paracetamol which, given our numbers, had no effect.
After a couple of days, I swam back to the door, turned around and said: “Same time next Christmas, then?” And they all nodded, knowingly
.I then opened the door, tripped over a discarded broom and momentarily wondered if it would’ve made a good substitute dance partner, before returning it to its dark cupboard – which I climbed inside to hide from the brutal world.
I so hate that painful song.
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