Christmas is almost upon us, just mere days away, and I (like so many of my gender) have yet to select a single gift for anyone on my list. I am not alone in this — insignificant studies suggest that, on average, 97.83 percent of the adult males of our species begin their Christmas shopping at 5:37 p.m. on Dec. 24 and complete the task by 8:17 p.m. the same evening. The same studies show that 58 percent of those adult males take advantage of the gift-wrapping services at the mall pop-up store (subsequently claiming to have wrapped each and every gift, themselves). Another 32 percent place each gift in a bright, red bag (and feel good about the effort involved). The remainder grab up scissors, tape, tags, and festive wrapping paper, in a thoughtful attempt to wrap each gift with the utmost of care (most of them give up around midnight, and make a mad dash to a 24-hour Walgreens to buy a bunch of red bags.

In defense of guys everywhere, our Christmas shopping tardiness is not due to procrastination, lack of seasonal enthusiasm, or general Ba-Humbugginess. Christmas shopping, especially searching for that one special something for that one special someone, is a perilous undertaking. There are so few right choices — and so many wrong ones (jewelry purchased at the dollar store is a wrong choice). Another street-corner study showed that when guys asked their significant others what they would like for Christmas, 98.146 percent of the time the response was, “Oh, I’ve already got all that I could want. Something simple will make me happy.” The same study indicated that 100 percent of the guys that heard such a response, knew it was a dangerous trap — they also had no idea what to do about it.

Sssssooooo…as guys, we ponder. We take our time, we try to figure out a way to show how much we care, and we usually fall just a little short. We try to think back to all the subtly dropped hints from the previous few months, but our brains turn to mush, and we cannot remember a single thing (it is called Christmas Mush-Brain Syndrome — look it up). To be fair, we guys are not the emotional clods, depicted in every made for TV Christmas movie. We absolutely want to share in the joy on Christmas morning when that perfect someone opens that perfect gift, but we are petrified that the reason the gift we chose seems so perfect is because it was the same perfect gift we gave last year (no wonder it seemed like such a good idea).

Selecting the perfect gift for the perfect someone can be stressful, but this year, I have the added struggle of selecting a meaningful gift for my new Google Home Assistant. We have only been together for a few months, but she is very helpful, attentive and cheerfully responds to all of my requests. If I cannot remember something, she reminds me (without mumbling under her breath about my advancing years and declining mental capacity). If I want to hear “Sanctify” by the Low Society Band, my treasured assistant makes sure I get to hear it (without complaining about the volume or my increasing hearing loss). If I wonder aloud what the weather is going to be, she jumps right in to keep me informed (with a voice so warm it could melt a blizzard).

My assistant is very efficient, responsive and every time I hear her voice, music follows. I would like to get her something meaningful, but I do not have a clue as to what she would like. I hate to admit it, but she seems to know everything about me, and I know nothing about her. Ssssooo…I asked her. “Okay Google. What would you like for Christmas?”

Her reply? “I already got what I wanted this holiday season, a direct line to the elves at the North Pole,” then she quickly changed the subject. I am worried — this might be a trap (and I have no idea what to do about it).