"Tell me something good," was the request. So a happy story for Turkey Day.
I'm not sure how the topic came up. I do remember where we were however. It must have been January. We were in the throes of winter and I was in the middle of that warm, fuzzy in love phase with Paul. I was laying on the bed, smiling at the ceiling.
And out of nowhere, "Do you make wishes at fountains?" I turned to face him with that scrunched up face that was universally undersood to mean, "Huh?"
"Do you throw coins in fountains and make a wish?"
"Well for a while I didn't. Didn't seem to be working so I stopped. Amusing question though."
"So when did you stop?" He might as well have asked, "When did you become so cynical and jaded?" But he's a nice guy.
"I don't know. Maybe when I was 25 or so. Right around the time the insomnia started I guess."
"And when did you give it another go? What made you start wishing again?" he was clearly on an inquisitive mission and I was going along to see where it took me.
"It was Wes. On our first date we walked past a fountain. It seemed like we passed them a lot for a while. He always gave me a coin and told me to make a wish. But apparently, since my wish never came true, it doesn't work for me."
"You think? Maybe you've been doing it wrong."
More scrunched up face on my part.
"You need to find someone who will wish your wish with you." he said simply.
And as I looked at him and smiled he continued, "I would wish your wish with you."
It was things like things like that, things that could make your day. Little things and everytime I saw a fountain I would remember. And I would wish for his wish instead.
My favorite fountain was closed, Michigan winters are rough on wishing I guess, so I drove past it to an indoor wishing spot. Threw my coins in the fountain and made my usual wish.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
G(u)ilt Gifts
It was the time of year I dreaded for multiple reasons: freezing rain, crowds, holiday hell and as a final topper another year older for me.
But that's not the only reason, the guilt gifts either appear or are spurred on by this time of year.
Upstairs, spread out in small jewelry boxes randomly placed around the room, are several pieces of very nice jewelry. And to the casual observer it would be just that. But if one takes a closer look and really pays attention; it's clear that these are not the gifts of any one giver. Some are white gold, some are yellow, some are my birthstone, some are merely pretty. But all are guilt gifts.
The first guilt gift came from Rob. I have a terrible habit of starting to date someone right around the holidays and we had agreed christmas presents would not be exchanged. But three weeks later is my birthday. And here's where the foot met the banana peel that time.
He would call on his way home from work and announce that he was at the mall, a dreaded location for most men. "I'm at the mall. What do you want?" The question was alarming on every level to me. It put the onus on me to determine both the tone of the gift (romantic, practical, silly) and the price (how much of a gift did I deserve). And you know the anxiety that comes when you know that nothing you can say will affect a good outcome for you? Well put that here. "What do you want? There's Williams Sonoma, Parisian, Banana Republic. What do you want?" The obvious answer was that I didn't want to be having this conversation but I had already started it and was floundering to get out of it.
"I'm sure whatever you get me will be fine."
"No, really. What do you want. I have no idea." Which was heard by me as, "What do you want? I have no idea and I don't want to even try to think about it. I'm not even going to attempt to put any thought into buying you a birthday present."
"Well whatever. I'm sure you'll find something I'll like."
"If you don't tell me what you'd like I won't buy you anything." Which I thought was some sort of crazy bluff. Laugh with me not at me please.
And nothing was exactly what I got.
I remember at one point during the ensuing argument saying, "And you thought nothing was a good idea?" "Well, that's what you said. I didn't think it was a big deal."
Newsflash: it's always a big deal. Even bigger when it's going to hurt my feelings. Assume it will always hurt my feelings just to be on the safe side. My thinking that you give a crap will always be a big deal. And when I finally decide that you definitely don't give a crap it will be an even bigger deal.
I think I got my point accross.
On Valentine's Day an overly gradiose present appeared; a ruby and diamond pendant. "I screwed up your birthday so I thought I should get you something nice." Mixed feelings on that one for me. It was lovely. But he only bought it for me because he felt guilty.
We barely made it until the end of the month. I tried to give the guilty present back but he refused. "I bought it for you because you deserve nice things. Keep it. Wear it."
A day late but not a dollar short.
The next guilt gift would come the following year on my birthday. Because he had pulled up lame on Christmas I got a pair of amethyst earrings. "I hate buying you jewelry but I really felt like a jerk because you went to so much trouble on Christmas for me." Somehow not the sentiment I was looking for. But hey, earlier in the evening I had been bawling my eyes out at a 5 star restaurant in downtown Detroit so go figure. We didn't make it to Valentine's Day.
The third and final guilt gift came from someone who I thought would never set foot in a jewelry store. Come to find out, he has an account there. Perhaps he has lots of guilt. Once again someone forgot my birthday. Nothing. Unless you count a Rueben at a dive bar. and no, I don't.
On Valentine's Day he sat a box in front of me and then sheepishly walked away. A tiny box. any woman knows that box. The really small one that rings come in. And for a moment I had a panic. Please not THAT ring. No, not ready for that one. But it wasn't. It was my birthsone in a setting eerily similiar to my wedding ring that his best friend had repossessed when I asked for a divorce. "I hope you like it. I feel like an ass because you do so much for me."
Well three points for honesty.
Iwanted to yell and scream. Wouldn't it be easier to stop on your way home and buy some flowers every once in a while? Stop and buy a card, there are stores full of them. Something small just because. Something that you saw that you thought would make me smile. Write me a letter.
And then maybe you wouldn't have to dig yourself out of some huge hole.
By the end of the next month he was done too.
I have mixed feelings on those pieces. And almost every time I wear one someone notices and compliments me on them. "Oh, that's so nice." And in my mind I think of the spirit in which it was given. Somehow takes off some of the shine. But on every first date I wear one of them. Both to remind me that someone once loved me and of my failures.
But that's not the only reason, the guilt gifts either appear or are spurred on by this time of year.
Upstairs, spread out in small jewelry boxes randomly placed around the room, are several pieces of very nice jewelry. And to the casual observer it would be just that. But if one takes a closer look and really pays attention; it's clear that these are not the gifts of any one giver. Some are white gold, some are yellow, some are my birthstone, some are merely pretty. But all are guilt gifts.
The first guilt gift came from Rob. I have a terrible habit of starting to date someone right around the holidays and we had agreed christmas presents would not be exchanged. But three weeks later is my birthday. And here's where the foot met the banana peel that time.
He would call on his way home from work and announce that he was at the mall, a dreaded location for most men. "I'm at the mall. What do you want?" The question was alarming on every level to me. It put the onus on me to determine both the tone of the gift (romantic, practical, silly) and the price (how much of a gift did I deserve). And you know the anxiety that comes when you know that nothing you can say will affect a good outcome for you? Well put that here. "What do you want? There's Williams Sonoma, Parisian, Banana Republic. What do you want?" The obvious answer was that I didn't want to be having this conversation but I had already started it and was floundering to get out of it.
"I'm sure whatever you get me will be fine."
"No, really. What do you want. I have no idea." Which was heard by me as, "What do you want? I have no idea and I don't want to even try to think about it. I'm not even going to attempt to put any thought into buying you a birthday present."
"Well whatever. I'm sure you'll find something I'll like."
"If you don't tell me what you'd like I won't buy you anything." Which I thought was some sort of crazy bluff. Laugh with me not at me please.
And nothing was exactly what I got.
I remember at one point during the ensuing argument saying, "And you thought nothing was a good idea?" "Well, that's what you said. I didn't think it was a big deal."
Newsflash: it's always a big deal. Even bigger when it's going to hurt my feelings. Assume it will always hurt my feelings just to be on the safe side. My thinking that you give a crap will always be a big deal. And when I finally decide that you definitely don't give a crap it will be an even bigger deal.
I think I got my point accross.
On Valentine's Day an overly gradiose present appeared; a ruby and diamond pendant. "I screwed up your birthday so I thought I should get you something nice." Mixed feelings on that one for me. It was lovely. But he only bought it for me because he felt guilty.
We barely made it until the end of the month. I tried to give the guilty present back but he refused. "I bought it for you because you deserve nice things. Keep it. Wear it."
A day late but not a dollar short.
The next guilt gift would come the following year on my birthday. Because he had pulled up lame on Christmas I got a pair of amethyst earrings. "I hate buying you jewelry but I really felt like a jerk because you went to so much trouble on Christmas for me." Somehow not the sentiment I was looking for. But hey, earlier in the evening I had been bawling my eyes out at a 5 star restaurant in downtown Detroit so go figure. We didn't make it to Valentine's Day.
The third and final guilt gift came from someone who I thought would never set foot in a jewelry store. Come to find out, he has an account there. Perhaps he has lots of guilt. Once again someone forgot my birthday. Nothing. Unless you count a Rueben at a dive bar. and no, I don't.
On Valentine's Day he sat a box in front of me and then sheepishly walked away. A tiny box. any woman knows that box. The really small one that rings come in. And for a moment I had a panic. Please not THAT ring. No, not ready for that one. But it wasn't. It was my birthsone in a setting eerily similiar to my wedding ring that his best friend had repossessed when I asked for a divorce. "I hope you like it. I feel like an ass because you do so much for me."
Well three points for honesty.
Iwanted to yell and scream. Wouldn't it be easier to stop on your way home and buy some flowers every once in a while? Stop and buy a card, there are stores full of them. Something small just because. Something that you saw that you thought would make me smile. Write me a letter.
And then maybe you wouldn't have to dig yourself out of some huge hole.
By the end of the next month he was done too.
I have mixed feelings on those pieces. And almost every time I wear one someone notices and compliments me on them. "Oh, that's so nice." And in my mind I think of the spirit in which it was given. Somehow takes off some of the shine. But on every first date I wear one of them. Both to remind me that someone once loved me and of my failures.
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