BY SARAH TEREZ ROSENBLUM
When you’re a kid the holidays mean a humid house packed with relatives, candy-overload and those pleather biker pants you threw yourself down in the aisle at Macy’s and sobbed over until your mother bought. (Or maybe that was just me.)
But it seems the older you get, the more stands between you and that holiday spirit. There’s your cousin the Civil War Re-enactor, your sister’s middle-aged boyfriend — the one who you’ve heard her call “daddy” when she thought no one was listening, your grandmother who pretends to be deaf whenever you say the word “lesbian” or “Obama” or “Ratatouille” (She hates the French — long story.) And sometimes, unexpectedly, there’s your significant other deciding maybe she doesn’t want to be so significant anymore.
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