Are the holidays stressing you out? Do you feel that? There in your gut… no, a little to the left. Yep, there in your gut is the guilt of doing absolutely nothing remarkable in the last 12 months since you’ve seen the calamity you call relatives. When they ask you, “how was your year?” you respond, “great!” but it’s still not enough. The piranhas will approach you with rapid-fire questions, leaving you smoking in the grass from the hot seat and being impaled by intrusive questions.
“When are you going to get married?”
“When I get someone pregnant.”
“What are you doing for work?”
“Not drug dealing.” *silence*
“Why can’t you be more like your sister?”
“When you’re under my roof, you’ll do what I say.”
“Why don’t you have a 401k?”
“You know… when we were your age…”
“So. Have you been dieting or working out at all?”
Good luck with that. If you don’t want to have to rely on literal pills and sobbing in your bathroom alone, I am going to solve all of your problems. I am the Xanax for your holiday. I volunteer as tribute to come along for an endeavor of a lifetime. I will do something quite deplorable to help you have a little fun this year. We are going to reach into that pill bottle and pull out… what? What is that? Lies.
I will lie for you this year for a low price of… friendship (plus rooming and transportation). I will introduce myself to your aunts and uncles at the front door of that family house that smells like soup. We will label our relationship as “fresh” in order to avoid that PDA shenanigans. We’ll tell them that my family was on a trip in the Swiss Alps, and that I needed to celebrate the holidays with a wonderful family like yours. I’ll excitedly tell them about how excel at your job. I’ll go on about how everyone from our college town likes you, and I was lucky to snag such a winner. I’ll bake apple pie with your mom, and play super smash with your niece and nephew. I will joke around with your dad about fly-fishing, and drive your sister to see her boyfriend. I will take that stress cloak right off your shoulders in a matter of minutes, and the best part about it is… I won’t want to date you afterwards.
At the end of the day when we’re done lying to your family and seeing their wonderful reactions, we will get taco bell and watch Archer. Maybe even talk about the universe, or the girl you actually like but doesn’t like you back. I’ll listen to you complain about the set back you had at work, and I’ll comfort you by joking around.
You have one rule: Do not rely on me too much.
I am simply a Xanax, a small blue pill to ease the stress in human form. I will not kiss you, and I will not date you.
After the holidays are over, and you’ve dodged the fights with condescending family members, we will go back to our regular lives and remain friends. You can tell your parents that I was swept away by a man from Dubai; that you’re heart broken. They’ll feel so sorry for your loss that they might just send you some money or a car.
The implications might be deceptive, but we’ll never let them know. Maybe next year when you go back to see the family and you tell them about how torn up you are over the break up, they won’t bother to ask you about where you’re going in life.
By being your holiday Xanax, I could potentially save you two years of stress-induced comas in your living room at home. If you feel too guilty for leading your parents to believe your life is better than it is, feel free to pre-order a spot next to Amanda Bynes in the looney bin on the way home.