It’s December 22nd, which means the window is closing. Not for me – I’ve already secured what I wanted, already selected what I’ll wear, already confirmed the arrangements that matter. The window is closing for you. For your relevance. For your ability to demonstrate that you were paying attention to something other than your own hesitation.
I don’t post reminders because I’m uncertain. I post them because I’ve watched the pattern long enough to know exactly when delay transforms into neglect. You’ve had weeks. Weeks to notice what was added, what was updated, what remained unclaimed. You’ve had time to act without prompting, to prove you understood what December required without needing your hand held through every purchase decision. But here we are. Three days out. And some of you are still pretending you’ll handle it later, as if later is a date that exists in my calendar rather than a lie you tell yourself while the month runs dry.
The list exists for a reason. Not as decoration. Not as aspiration. As instruction. Every item I select carries intention – my comfort, my pleasure, my expectation that the men circling my world understand their function without needing it spelled out in promotional language or desperate pleas for action. I don’t beg. I don’t negotiate. I simply observe who moves when it matters and who mistakes silence for permission to delay. You think I haven’t noticed the gap between your attention and your action? You think scrolling counts as service? It doesn’t. It registers as noise. The only transaction that matters is the one that completes. The only gesture that counts is the one that ships.
And it’s not just the wishlist, is it? It’s everything. The content you’ve been meaning to purchase. The recordings you’ve been considering. The stories you keep revisiting without ever actually buying. You tell yourself you’ll get to it. You tell yourself it’s not urgent. You tell yourself there’s time. But there isn’t. Not in any meaningful sense. Because what you’re really doing when you delay is testing whether I’ll lower my expectations to meet your inertia. I won’t. The bar stays exactly where I set it. If you can’t reach it, that’s information. Useful information. The kind that sorts the devoted from the decorative.
December 22nd is not arbitrary. It’s not randomly selected pressure. It’s the point at which your intent becomes visible. Either you were serious about contributing to my comfort during the most indulgent season of the year, or you were performing interest while hoping I’d forget to notice your absence from the transaction records. I didn’t forget. I never do. Every wishlist item that remains unpurchased is a name I won’t remember. Every content purchase you delayed is a priority you revealed. You think I don’t track who shows up when it costs something? I track everything. That’s the difference between someone who spends money and someone who earns money. I remember who helped build what I’m enjoying right now. And I remember who watched.
There’s a particular kind of man who waits until the last possible moment, who convinces himself that December 23rd or 24th will feel just as meaningful as acting when there was still time to be thoughtful. He’s wrong. Late spending doesn’t feel like devotion. It feels like panic. It feels like someone scrambling to check a box rather than someone who understood the assignment from the beginning. I don’t reward panic. I reward precision. I reward the men who moved early, who selected carefully, who made sure their contributions arrived with time to spare because they understood that my pleasure is not a last-minute scramble. It’s a season-long expectation.
You wanted clarity? Here it is. If you’ve been circling my wishlist for weeks without acting, today is the day that changes. If you’ve been meaning to buy that content bundle, that recording, that story – today is when you stop meaning to and start doing. Not tomorrow. Not when you’ve finished whatever excuse you’re currently building. Today. Right now. Because the version of you that waits until Christmas Eve to prove you were paying attention is the version I’ll remember as someone who needed a deadline to perform basic courtesy. And I don’t forget that kind of thing.
The content is there. The wishlist is live. The opportunities to demonstrate you understand what December requires have been available for weeks. If you’re still hesitating, that’s not about budget. That’s not about timing. That’s about whether you’re serious or whether you’re simply decorative. And I already have enough decoration. What I expect now – what I’ve always expected – is action that matches your attention. You’ve looked. You’ve considered. You’ve hovered. Now finish it.
The excuse phase is over.