Blinded by the Light

by robertgale
(london)

We all know that guy. Sometimes he’s a member of the family, sometimes an audacious neighbour and sometimes an overly enthusiastic colleague desperate for you to come and admire his “amazing” display.

Whoever he is, he’s almost always going to be the guy that loves to show off, the one with the stunning Marble Arch escorts and the BMW that he can’t really afford but has anyway.

And of course, he’s the guy with the lights. The christmas lights that threaten to blind you every time you walk past, the lights that have burned themselves into your retinas so that all you can see when you close your eyes is dancing reindeer and a jolly old red man depicted in all his glory by a blaze of neon and wire frames.

It’s not like we don’t like christmas lights, we do, but this is just ridiculous. Who needs that many lights? What purpose do they serve?

The point of the holidays is not to be flashy and superficial like this. In fact, it’s the absolute opposite. Christmas is a time to take away all the glitz and the glamour and the pretense, a time to be calm and relaxed.

It’s such a wonderful event because for one day a year, everyone forgets about themselves and dedicates their time, effort and energy to being good to other people.

As cliched as the saying is, it’s about the giving not the receiving. It’s about the look on someone’s face when you give them the perfect present and they light up with joy and gratitude. Getting that perfect gift is a sign that you’ve listened to all the little hints, picked up on what they like and what they need.

When else can you show how much you know someone, how much you care about them and want them to be happy?

That won’t stop him though. He’ll have them all up there, in their gaudy glory. It doesn’t matter how tasteful your neighbourhood is, or how many tuts he draws from passers-by, he will put them up and he will subject you to the multicoloured inferno.

The moving decorations, the fake santa climbing up the chimney, the awful flocked tree that looks like a bad extra from a supermarket grotto, he will have it all. If you try to talk to him, he will sympathise with your plight and reassure you that he’ll try and keep it restrained. He won’t: it’s all empty promises and half truths. Restrained for him means that he won’t hook up the equivalent of a christmas light Vesuvius.

It’s rather embarrassing

When you bring one of your own beautiful Marble Arch escorts home with you, you want to be discreet, but it’s rather hard to be stealthy when bathed in the glow of a thousand fairy lights. It’s hard to bring anyone round really, when there’s such a looming monstrosity haunting your every motion.

It gets to you eventually. God help you if you live opposite the guy. Things can become rather reminiscent of “Chicken Roaster” episode of Seinfeld, where a man slowly goes crazy as the light from a glowing sign opposite beams into his apartment constantly.

Author information:

Robert Gale is a writer with experience in magazine columns, short articles and editing. He is the author of this article on Marble Arch Escorts. For more information visit here.