I’m in full fledged WHAT THE HELL AM I GOING TO BUY YOU PEOPLE mode. I love them all, I really do, but when it comes to buying family and friends presents all these feelings of rage just come to the surface. Not because I have to spend money on them – I’d gladly spend up to $30 (30!) if I knew it would make them happy. But trying to figure out that perfect present for everyone is daunting.
And that’s not even taking The Girlfriend into account. She has literally psyched me out this year in terms of what to get her. It seems like I have already bought her every single present known to man that doesn’t require taste or a personal opinion. DVD players, digital cameras, stereos, etc. I’ve exhausted the market of what I know, unless of course this year I buy her a wireless keyboard deluxe desktop set or tickets to a Knicks game.
But NOOO! Of course this year she wants clothes. She wants jewelry. She wants all these things that require me picking out one of hundreds of different styles, cuts, colors, etc. And if there’s one thing that The Girlfriend and I differ on (besides opinions on movies starring Elisha Cuthbert) it’s taste in clothing, or as she says: “It’s not that you have bad taste, it’s just that I have good taste and we’re very different.”
It got to the point where, after an exhaustive day of shopping by myself yesterday, The Girlfriend and I sat down to dinner and I begged and pleaded with her to tell me what she wants. She said a jacket, she said boots, she said sweaters. And I cried. She attempted to reassure me that I CAN DO THIS. I can pick out something she will like; yet for every item she threw out I reminded her of a time we went shopping together and we had this conversation:
Me: (carrying jacket up to her) “I really like this one.”
Me: (carrying sweater up to her) “What do you think of this one?”
Me: (tears in my eyes, carrying jeans up to her) “These?”
TG: “You can stop trying now.”
My only recourse at this point is to go into a store, pick out an article of clothing that I think is nice and then carry it around the store with me looking for it’s exact opposite. Either that or turn the standard sex coupon book into a full-scale diorama that I can wrap in an enormous box and pass off as “a big gift.” Or break her television and then buy her a new one. (Yes, part of me just said, “That’s not a bad idea.”)
On a positive note, there’s a good chance that I bought my father the same exact thing this year that I did last year. Good times.