I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she.
Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off!
For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they – with amazing calm – call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.
Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets and mood rings left on the shelves. (You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th-hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman.
Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.
Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted, and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh, amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.
Even if the male Santa did have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost in the snow and clouds, and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.
Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.
Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
- Men can't pack a bag.
- Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
- Men would feel their masculinity is threatened, having to be seen with all those elves.
- Men don't answer their mail.
- Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described, even in jest, as anything remotely resembling a “bowlful of jelly.”
- Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.
I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men.
Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy. Cupid flies around carrying weapons.
Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers. Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test. But not St. Nick. Not a chance
--Give Me A Push--
A man is in bed with his wife when there is a rat-a-tat-tat on the door. He rolls over and looks at his clock, and it’s half past three in the morning. “I’m not getting out of bed at this time,” he thinks, and rolls over.
Then, a louder knock follows. “Aren’t you going to answer that?” says his wife. So he drags himself out of bed, and goes downstairs. He opens the door and there is man standing at the door. It didn’t take the homeowner long to realize the man was drunk.
“Hi there.” slurs the stranger, “Can you give me a push??”
“No, get lost, it’s half past three. I was in bed.” says the man and slams the door.
He goes back up to bed and tells his wife what happened and she says, “Dave, that wasn’t very nice of you. Remember that night we broke down in the pouring rain on the way to pick the kids up from the baby-sitter and you had to knock on that man’s house to get us started again? What would have happened if he’d told us to get lost??”
“But the guy was drunk.” says the husband.
“It doesn’t matter.” says the wife. “He needs your help.”
So the husband gets out of bed again, gets dressed, and goes downstairs. He opens the door, and not being able to see the stranger anywhere he shouts:
“Hey, do you still want a push??”
He hears a voice cry out,”Yeah please.”
So, still being unable to see the stranger he shouts: “Where are you?”
And the stranger replies: “I’m over here, on your swing.”
