My boyfriend and I lived together for 28 years. We never spent a Christmas together.

• In the 28 years we lived together, my boyfriend and I never spent Christmas together.
• I always left to spend it with my parents, and my boyfriend didn't seem to mind.
• While our breakup had nothing to do with Christmas, I still wonder if we missed out on memories.

Christmas was 10 days away, and I still had to wrap the presents I'd bought for my boyfriend. My suitcases, on the other hand, were already packed for 10 days at my parents' little condominium in North Carolina. I was flying out the next morning, and I needed to get at least one of the presents wrapped so my boyfriend could open a gift from me on Christmas.

I wouldn't be there to see his face when he unwrapped the Squatty Potty joke gift under the warm, colorful lights of a Christmas tree. I wouldn't be there to laugh when he squinted curiously at the fossilized dinosaur poop I'd found in a Texas antique store. I wouldn't curl up next to him with the smell of roasting leg of lamb permeating the house as we sipped holiday cocktails before noon.

In the 28 years I lived with my long-term boyfriend, we never spent a Christmas together. Each year I left our home to spend it with my elderly parents, while he went to spend it with his parents. New Year's Eve became our combined holiday celebration.

I didn't want my parents to spend Christmas alone

After my parents moved to from Oklahoma to North Carolina, I spent that first Christmas with them, telling myself it was to help them acclimate to their new home.

My mother was one of those "holiday moms" who decorate the entire house with German nutcrackers, frosted snowballs, and vintage Santa Claus figurines. She baked enough fruitcake cookies and spiced cinnamon pecans to feed the entire US military. She hoarded presents all year long so that when Christmas did come, the twinkling tree looked like it was suffocating under the weight of generosity.

"I have to go this year," I told my boyfriend. "It's their first year there, and I don't want my parents to be lonely."

The next year I did the same thing. My mother begged me and my brother to come.

The year after that, my father had a health scare. We embraced the holidays as a way to help support his recovery and spend as much time as possible with him in case the worst happened.

By year four, it was just expected that my brother and I would visit at Christmas. As age and frailty claimed more of my parents, spending the holidays with them became more and more important.

My boyfriend was understanding

My boyfriend was more understanding than many significant others would be. He wasn't the sentimental type, and he had his own family gathering to attend. But I think maybe deep down he was a little hurt.

"I'm here all by myself. And the electricity is out," he groused one Christmas morning when a snowstorm stranded him alone in our dark, cold house. On another Christmas Eve, he lamented that everyone was off visiting their families while he was sitting with the dogs.

Granted, we never had children, so spending the holidays apart wasn't as difficult. For many couples, especially those with extended families, holidays can be a logistical nightmare with scheduling equal time with each branch of the family.

He and I went our separate ways, but it wasn't because we never spent Christmas together. I think not feeling stressed about having the perfect romantic holiday made us stronger. We created our own special holiday traditions that called for eating leg of lamb, drinking lots of booze, watching scary movies, and opening presents — just not on December 25.

Still, I sometimes wonder what memories we missed making — and whether spending Christmas at home would've made a difference. I sometimes wish, when I think late at night of our life together, that we had spent at least one little Christmas together.