Last Christmas, I gave you my heart
The very next day you gave it away
This year to save me the tears
I'll give it to someone special.

Jimmy Eat World (or WHAM), Last Christmas

I love Christmas.

Bundling up in coats and scarves.

Watching my breath curl into smoke when I step outside in the snow.

I love the smell of Christmas trees and the glow of lights twinkling warmly through windows all over town.

Hearing cheesy songs on the radio.

Snuggling on my couch to watch George C. Scott (the best Scrooge ever) and reruns of that crazy movie with the kid and the BB gun.

And I love giving gifts...

He called me Fancy New Beesley a couple of months ago and I blushed at the smile in his voice when he said it. But now, I think it might be him.

He's Fancy New Jim, who doesn't drink Grape Soda, or eat ham and cheese.

Fancy New Jim who doesn't take me up on an offer to prank Dwight because... he has to be responsible at work?

Fancy New Jim who I can't read. Who doesn't want to give me an inch.

I get it.

Really, I do.

So, I feel a little stupid, because when I pictured Christmas at Dunder-Mifflin, I sort of saw Jim standing beside me, laughing about our plans for Dwight's CIA mission.

Instead I'm planning a party with the woman who's dating the guy I'm...

I'm planning a party with Karen.

And not because of him.

She's nice.

More importantly, she's normal, which is a rarity around here.

I see why he likes her.

And it's not her fault...

So, that's why I'm printing flyers on paper that will make Angela's skin crawl.

Nevermind the CIA or Fancy New Jim.

I'm Fancy New Beesley.

Whose Christmas tree - in my one kitchen - is only two feet tall.

Who's not engaged or dating or brave enough to be honest.

And I'm trying not to think about it, because tomorrow morning, I'll wake up alone.

My Christmas lights will twinkle sadly and I'll try not to think about him - or him and her - while I drive to my parents' house for dinner.

I love Christmas.

I do.