Ho! Ho! Horrible... Why we are so good at choosing bad gifts.

Vanessa and I are currently in the quiet throws of the annual gift search. For us, being in the beautiful depths of rural France, it is all about Amazon. Most of our pressies are UK bound anyway, and life is easier, cheaper and so much more convenient without the need to manage postal deadlines or their astronimical, associated costs.

Although I can't always see what Vanessa is looking at on her laptop, I am pretty sure about what is going on in her head. "Gift optimising". Finding that particular piece of perfect, that says "I see you, I know you, I get you". Christmas pressies are a curious business. "Giving" is an act that is so profoundly human but often oscillates between nirvanic satisfaction and numbing discomfort. On the surface, It seems to be all about the gift, but if we tear the wrapping paper even slightly, we can plainly see that it's not about what's-in-the-box, at all.

The gift iself, although a vital player, could be considered almost symbolic. The gesture. The language of a thought. Which is precisely why getting it wrong, feels so weird. It reveals the gap between how we imagine others and who they actually are. We not only want to feel that sense of connection, we want to show it off . We crave the emotional uplift of getting it right, because it demonstrates a closeness that catapults us miles ahead of "gosh, how kind", to the place where the arrow hits the benevolent bullseye of "omg..she knows me sooo well"... which is what we are really after.

Psychologists say this mismatch begins in the brain. Perhaps because giving a gift feels so much like a test for relationships, we start to overthink it. We are goverend by worry, by concern. Fear creeps in. The questions sneakily becomes "what if they absolutely hate it?" Which seems to me, about as far away from the spirit of Christmas as the sleigh could travel. Our focus is on the feeling we get from giving, more than the reality of the receiving, and in that blind spot, the "Barbecued grapefruit", scented-candle was born. One of our readers, a lady called Coco, chimed in on a chat thread the other day, expressing surprise that her Secret Santa gift, opened early "in error"... contained a bag of electrolyte drinks for ultra-marathon runners. She would have little interest in driving 26 miles, let alone run them. "Have they met me?".. was the voice of her ghast.

Studies repeatedly show that givers and receivers are rarely aligned. Givers choose gifts that often bull-horn their own identity of perceived thoughtfulness or imagined intellect. A first edition of Anna Kerenina in the original Russian, is nothing more than the reflection of Narcissus in the pool. "Look how clever I am to be the person behind that lavish largesse." It is the bombastic extention of their identity, and nothing whatsoever to do with the recipient. They give something that expresses who they believe themselves to be as a giver rather than something that reflects who the other person is. I mean there is no better example than baby Jesus own Crimbo experience.. "I think he would prefer the gold, frankincense and myrrh combo, than that rattle, the teddy bear and the origami mobile.." said the three not-so-wise men.

Receivers tend to crave something far simpler: Give me what I actually like, use, or enjoy. Gift-givers often want to impress; recipients want to feel understood.

That "Mind the gap" of empathy widens like a pythons gob at Christmas time. The season of goodwill amplifies absolutely everything - the nostalgia, the comparison, the pressure, the expectations. The stories we’ve carried since short pants, about how a “good” Christmas looks. Presents have to "perform" their dance of connection to the presentee. No wonder we get it wrong. We have forgotten what we are doing. We default to our inner impresario, even though interestingly, we actually fear missing the gifty mark. Behavioural research shows that recipients actually value emotionally meaningful gifts far more than predictable ones - but we givers tend to avoid that quixotic quicksand. Those gifts feel too vulnerable, too revealing, too risky. So instead of sharing something heartfelt, we often choose something showy or - even worse - something neutral. Something no one could possibly object to. And yet those ultra-safe gifts, socks, dish towels and driving gloves, are often the ones that miss the deepest.

Getting a gift wrong can stir up some surprising emotions: the sting of feeling unseen, or not being "known". The awkwardness of being misunderstood, the disappointment of a moment that could have been, but now just isn't. The quiet realisation that maybe someone hasn’t been listening as closely as we hoped. But here’s the soft landing: most wrong gifts are not evidence of neglect or disconnection. They’re evidence of how curiously complex it is to read each other, even with the best intentions.

The truth is, we’re human. We rush. We overthink. We make ego-driven assumptions. We translate our really really genuine affection into totally the wrong language. And every so often, we misjudge spectacularly. But beneath all the misfires and mismatches lies something gentle and true: the desire to connect. The willingness to try. The hope that our care - our love - will be understood, even if the contents in the are a little bit off.

Perhaps this year, the most meaningful gift isn’t the perfect present but the awareness that giving and receiving are both acts of courageous vulnerability. We don’t always get each other right, but we keep showing up. We keep choosing each other. And sometimes, that’s enough.

Because the real magic of Christmas gifting has never been in what we wrap. It’s in the moment someone says, with a simple smile,“I saw this, and thought of you.”

Happy Christmas.