Canned Fabada and Masturbation: Spain's Christmas Eve Debate

Canned Fabada, Two Handjobs, and Bed: The Most Honest Christmas Eve

A plate of canned fabada, two handjobs, and sleep. That was the Christmas Eve plan shared bluntly by one participant, triggering a storm of reactions ranging from envy and disgust to solidarity and sociological analysis. The stark confession acted as an uncomfortable mirror: while some celebrated the honesty of not pretending, others rushed to remind everyone that intimacy is not for discussion. Amidst this, one fact went unchallenged: fabada at night has no place.

The original story quickly expanded. The author admitted he had performed the two handjobs using old party-night videos, a detail that multiplied replies. Some upgraded his evening score if the support material was a specific Christmas video, while others declared mixing handjobs with fabada a beginner's mistake. The conversation drifted into darker territories: someone recalled spending Christmases in a French prison for drugs and others in a psychiatric ward, also due to drugs. The scale of what constitutes a bad Christmas Eve broke upward.

What Is the Cost of a Solo Christmas Eve?

The most repeated calculation was emotional, not economic. Several messages agreed that spending the night alone, without in-laws, siblings-in-law, or screaming children, is a nearly perfect plan. One participant stated it plainly: he attends family meals to please his partner, not because he wants to, and would have swapped his night for the confessor's. Christmas loneliness, traditionally treated as drama, appeared here as a privilege.

Fabada, however, found no defenders. One participant was blunt: one-third of the plan isn't bad (the two handjobs), another third should have been better executed because fabada at night has no place, and the final third, the solitude, is almost perfect. The arithmetic of Christmas leisure was broken down with more rigor than many economic reports.

Canned Fabada: How Much Fat Does It Really Have?

The can of fabada became subject to scrutiny. One message denounced the taxpayer fraud implied by the fact that only 9% of the can is fat, linking to a supermarket product. The question about the specific brand remained unanswered. This data point, offered as a complaint, summarizes a broader concern: canned food as a metaphor for a minimal Christmas Eve.

Another participant shared their own dinner: slice of rye sandwich bread, apple, glass of milk, movie, and sleeping while watching TV. The menu comparison made clear that fabada, despite everything, wasn't the worst possible scenario.

The Political Turn: From Fabada to Class Struggle

The conversation shifted to ideological ground. A participant launched that sharing dialectical space and country with millions of people of opposing ideology and scarce resources is a tragedy. The response was immediate: a taxi driver retorted that 4 out of every 10 euros generated during his shift are clean profit for him, plus tips, while his boss pays for repairs, social security, and gasoline. The question was where this fits in the social hierarchy.

The exchange escalated. Accusations of hypocrisy and oversimplification crossed paths, and the discussion moved toward the complexity of class society, seen by some as a rich pueblerino and by others as black and white. The fabada Christmas Eve remained an excuse for a debate on exploitation, privilege, and dignity that never closed.

Christmas as a Mental Health Exam

One message provided the darkest note: some Christmases in a French prison for drugs and others in a psychiatric ward, also for drugs. The confession, devoid of self-pity, reframed the entire conversation. Compared to that, two handjobs and a canned fabada seemed like a luxury plan.

Another participant recalled that at his age, he can no longer handle two handjobs or fabada for dinner. The "derroición" (a term used by the original author to define his antiestéticat) was surpassed by biology.

Is Christmas Eve a Date for Reflection?

A message claimed the religious meaning of the date: Christmas Eve is for reflection, fasting, and prayer, allowing only a piece of unleavened bread at dawn amidst chants. The original author's response was anything but theological. The tension between devotional Christmas and Christmas as a social formality ran through the exchange unresolved.

The story's close came from work reality: tomorrow to the warehouse at 7 AM, so the boss sees you miccionan business. The Christmas Eve of fabada, two handjobs, and bed ended, like so many others, with the alarm ringing before dawn.

How many canned Christmas Eves does it take for a country to stop pretending family is always the best plan?