Cigar Club Subscription: You are passive-aggressive. You've guaranteed he'll think of you throughout the year. Whether by anger-smoking after the break-up and never fully-enjoying a handful of excellent cigars per month; or that he should thank you just as often and there he goes, doing the dishes again because "You like those cigars, don't you?" It angers you that he won't smile while scrubbing the charred baked ziti remains from the pot. You think you're smiling but it looks more like you're showing your fangs.
Humidor: You are aggressive aggressive. You have taken this opportunity to redecorate his man cave. It starts here. Maybe a touch of this. Then of that. It ends with you hanging a framed glamor shot of yourself over his favorite chair. You cannot wait for him to get home and see. Wait. Hasn't he been gone a long time? He said he was just running out real quick... When you show your fangs, guys naively think you're smiling. Your festive Christmas sweater is unnerving. Try not to hiss whilst caroling.
Cutter and/or lighter: You might even live with the guy but you've not paid a lick of attention when he waxes poetic about his favorite smokes. So you wisely hedged your bets and got him the small things he needs to go shut up on the back deck for an hour or two. He's out of your hair, and the stupid things are easy to hide in a drawer with his many other very similar stupid things. You also got your dad a tie for every Father's Day. Dad was a blue-collar guy. At least you're showing improvement. You really like Martha Stewart. It's the impersonal touches that matter most.
A box of his favorite cigars: You're a gem. You pay attention and maybe even partake in his hobby. If you partake, you will be smoking 1/3 of your thoughtful gift. What's he gonna say? You might even share a joint social media cigar account. That's neat. Are you sure they're his favorite and not yours? I thought so. You prefer to think of Christmas as the culmination of Halloween. Nice Nightmare Before Christmas sweater.
A box of (unknown) cigars: You're in over your head. You stumbled into a cigar shop and they saw you coming. You probably asked for their best cigar. They probably sticker-shocked you. Your nervous eyes fell on an ornate box at a lower price. He will smoke one. You will note a hidden grimace. He will not smoke another and now... now... you are paying attention. Hateful attention. Spiteful note-taking. All your clothes have logos on them and who the hell pays that much for a sweatshirt? You will console yourself with a pricier self-gift. You've yet to pay off Christmas 2018.
Sampler pack: Bless your heart. You try to listen to him prattle on boy-o about the stupid things but in the end, you know he's silly-nutty over a bunch of dead leaves. For someone who loves dead leaves so much, he sure doesn't rake a lot. However, your common sense prevails for lack of geekdom fog--and a sampler pack just makes sense. You wear a lot of suits. You just got a promotion at work. Sorry. At career. Your tree is impeccable and you don't allow anyone near it. The cookies are for display purposes only.
A single cigar: Whether it's a $5 or $50, this is the most heartfelt option. You are a sweetheart. Whether strapped for cash or shopping the top shelf with a sniper's eye (or both)... you are the real deal. You’ll be enjoying his enjoyment and he'll be enjoying yours of your similar reciprocally-gifted present. Spoiler alert: Nine months later, cash might be even a bit tighter. Other couples hate you guys. It really is the thought that counts with you, and people who just say that without meaning hate you extra hard. Take heart, your 2nd-grade class adores you.
Cigar art: see humidor.
Cigar book or magazine subscription: You're a bookish person--and that's a good thing. You either wish he'd read more or you wish he'd read less of the classics so that you could be the well-read one of the couple. You included a lovely bookmark and reading light. You love watching Jeopardy! The Christmas cookies you made have cat hair in them. Your hot cocoa has cat hair in it. The tree was taken down by the cats. Right now, one of them is coughing up tinsel. Merry Catmas.
Cash/gift card/store credit: You are utterly detached. Also, I feel this is the best gift. This, I also feel is why I'm bad at relationships. The next thing you’ll be handing him are divorce papers; back, signed. No worries, there's always another. There's a little egg nog in your rum.
A NOTE: Please pardon the male-centric angle of this article. Feel free to (re)gender accordingly. I'm out-dated and I am tired/lazy. Happy Holidays to all!
::: very :::