Apparently I’m a hard person to buy gifts for. That’s what my art director Birnie and assistant editor Brooke said, but then for my birthday recently they gave me a pair of gorgeous ballet flats to keep in the office so that I will leave the office at lunchtime (me in heels = desk bound) so that they won’t feel bad leaving the office at lunchtime, which was perfect, so I can’t be that hard to buy for.
Anyway, last year was my first Christmas with my boyfriend M. I’m very into Christmas. Decorations go up in October, theme planning starts on December 26 of the year before, I sing carols in the shower from… actually I do that all year round. So he was really feeling the pressure.
He kept asking and asking for hints. I didn’t really care what I got (lie, actually you know that little girl in Miracle on 34th Street who asks Santa for a dad and a brother and a house for Christmas and who by the end totally expects that she’s going to get it? That’s me ) so I would just say ‘something delightful and not at all practical’. Easy, right? And he’d nod and go ‘yep, yep, under control’.
The big day came. I gave him an Electra Amsterdam bicycle. I’m great at presents.
I feel kind of bad about this post because I don’t want to sound ungrateful even though I know I do, and truthfully I’d love him even if he got me a $1 gift voucher for the Two Dollar shop (but if you read this M, please don’t). All of the presents he gave me were awesome in their own way. And yes, he gave me multiple presents, which was really generous and seeing them all wrapped under the tree is kind of present enough. But when you take into account the hot tip I’d given him, in particular the ‘nothing practical’ bit, you can understand my… confusion.
* A pizza maker.
* A scanner.
* An underwater video camera (I already have one).
* A bluetooth kit for my car.
Anyway, the point of this exercise in spoilt brat name-and shaming is that the world has been flipped on its head because yesterday, without any hinting or even secret hoping on my behalf at all, I received - from the man whose previous idea of ‘delightfulness’ meant a tool that allowed me the ability to talk to my mother in the car without risk of breaking the law - the best belated birthday present a girl could hope for…
(And I think he now understands the meaning of the word ‘delightful’ because last night I slept with it clutched in my arms.)
For my next trick I’m going to teach him how to blow-dry hair.