In response to New York’s rejection of a bill to legalise same-sex marriage, Jamie Frevele, an American comedian, has decided to auction off, on eBay, her hetero right to marry. In the item listing, she says, tongue-in-cheek: “I’m an unmarried heterosexual woman, and since I probably won’t be using my right to get married, I would like to give it away.”

Although she’s aiming for laughs, there’s a political point being made in this the season of giving. It’s a sentiment many straight Americans are embracing. It’s becoming a veritable cause celebre. Brad and Angelina, I gather, won’t tie the knot until gays are legally able to. Well, hurray for principles and taking a stand, but I can’t help thinking it’s a cop-out – that maybe it’s their way to not take the final step of commitment. I mean, I don’t see them refusing to wear scandalously expensive designer clothes in light of all the people in need of clothes all over the world.

But, whatever.

Frevele’s ‘Christmas gift’ got me thinking. Which is what it was intended to do, I suppose. Only, instead of thinking about what part I can play to help disenfranchised people, it got me thinking with stomach-churning terror about people taking holiday gift ideas too far. Joy to the world, right? Oh, how I dread these creative types and their – ahem – creative ideas. What’s so wrong with traditional Christmas presents? Presents that we can sit back and enjoy, basking in the knowledge that, hey, someone spent good money on me? This newfangled age of gift-giving, wherein it’s perfectly acceptable to give somebody a certificate announcing that a tree has been planted in their name, or a star has been named in their honour, is simply too avant-garde for me. The insanity must end! Lemme have my elegantly gift-wrapped, ornately bow-tied package that I may place beneath my tree, will you? Give me the chance to gasp, Valley-girl style: “OMG! You shouldn’t have!” as I clutch my chest with one hand and frantically fan my flushed face with the other.

But we’re in a recession. So here comes the parade of crappy gifts. Look out for those Plasticine masterpieces, all your dollar-store whatsits and re-gifted doodads. Which would be fine if they were coming from my nephews, when they were wee lads. Some people didn’t need an excuse to give thoughtless presents before; this year, they can probably get away with it because we’re all supposed to be understanding of meagre resources. Jeez. All I can say is I hope this bloody recession will hurry up and actually recede.

(I know I’m being politically incorrect – so, please, don’t send me letters.)

Seriously, though, what is it about Christmas that makes people lose their minds when choosing gifts? A pair of 6-inch stripper heels from my Significant Other, despite thoughts to the contrary, will only guarantee my self-esteem taking a dive. Yeah, really. (Do I bore you?) Perhaps as much as a care package consisting of deodorant, toothpaste and that thing you use to scrape the crud off your heels will.

‘Blind’ gifts are insulting simply because they indicate that the person giving them doesn’t know you as well as you imagine they should. Or maybe they simply don’t care. (The excuse being: it’s the thought that counts. I’m supposed to be happy that you thought to give me a potato peeler? Really?)

At the comments section of the Daily Dish blog, under a post discussing the worst Christmas presents, there are some interesting confessions of people who’ve given and received bad gifts. One expectant mother reported of receiving only baby things. (Hello, that’s what a baby shower is for.) One guy admitted to giving his new bride an ironing board for their first Christmas together “because my spouse used to iron our clothes on the small dining room table in the small apartment we lived in”. An ironing board, people. (Please. How this weisenheimer remained in married, let alone conjugal, bliss beyond that year is beyond me.) And, I think this one was perhaps the richest: grease bags for the kitchen grease catcher. (Talk about your tidings of comfort and joy!)

Still, I can fully appreciate that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. One reader nominated an inscribed book his wife received from her boss as a bad gift idea. Really? To me, a book would rank in the Top Three best gifts I can get at Christmas. Especially some first-edition, autographed copy by a famous writer. But it kind of made me wonder if, all those Christmases when I paired books with toys and gave them to my nephews and godchildren, they were just rolling their eyes and thinking their Auntie Sharon gave the worst gifts in the world.

Then there’s this observation I’ve made regarding this gift-giving conundrum: it’s, more often than not, men who seem to be the ones most challenged. Often, men, who don’t even like shopping under normal circumstances, wait until the last minute to shop. Mistake number one. Add that to the fact of crowded malls crammed with holiday shoppers, and calamity is sure to follow. So they simply grab the first thing so they can return home to watch ESPN. Men, shopping must be done with a clear head and with no closely scheduled appointments. It’s difficult, I know, but this year, let the women in your lives thank you, and really mean it. (A marathon session of sex, please note, should be part of the Valentine’s Night repertoire, not a Christmas gift. Let’s not sully the image of our Lord and Saviour lying in a manger.)

I know that high-powered execs don’t have as much time to dedicate to choosing gifts. That’s cool; that’s what personal assistants are for. Be like Mr Big who explained to Carrie, that time she phoned to thank him for a bouquet of flowers he sent her, that all credit should go to his secretary. If I could leave you with one word of advice, men, it would be this: give your assistants a dossier on the pertinent information about the women you’re shopping for, so smart choices can be made. And, here’s the bonus: you can take the glory and ensure that your new year at least starts off right.