My boyfriend's birthday was this past Tuesday. Being the perfect girlfriend, I waited until Tuesday afternoon to search for a gift. It's not that I put off the search until the last minute for the fun of it. I've been attempting to come up with ideas, but to no avail. What the bloody hell do men want? Besides the obvious, of course (beer, sex, and a nap). In an effort to broaden my possibilities, I sent out the question to the semi public. What should I get my boyfriend for his birthday. Here are some of the suggestions.
- Tie a bow around myself and yell "surprise!"
- Take him out to dinner (knowing full well that my cooking leaves much to be desired)
- Jelly of the month club
- Cheese of the month club
- A gift certificate to Borders
- A series of nude pics (not necessarily of me)
- A stuffed animal. Not a toy. Something from a taxidermist
- The entire series of Small Wonder on DVD
- A tool belt (I guess because all men like Home Depot... even though he is far from a handyman)
- Tell him that every bloody day with me is a present. He should get on his knees every morning and thank God that I grace him with my presence.
It's not that the suggestions weren't good. It's that the majority were terrible. I already tell him that he's lucky that I admit to knowing him, let alone date him. We've covered that. He knows that it's a privilege, not a right, to be with me. I can replace him on short notice. I just think it's only fair to let him know where he stands.
But, since it is traditional to buy a gift for one's significant other, I figured I would have to bite the bullet and risk utter humiliation. This is his first birthday with us as a couple. The first birthday gift is important. It sets the bar. I try to set the bar low so all I have to go is up. It's called being practical. The problem is that if I have trouble coming up with an idea, I get discouraged and end up doing nothing at all. What sort of message does that send? "Happy birthday! I couldn't think of a gift so you're shit out of luck." That's a bad girlfriend.
So, I was back to the list of ten. The gift card to Borders was out. He is completely illiterate. He's just managed to coast through life getting a series of government jobs that don't require him to read. The complete season DVD set of "Small Wonder" was out as well. That little Vicki bot freaks him out. To this day he panics and throws empty beer bottles at every 8 year old brunette he sees. That damn show is his Vietnam. We don't talk about it much.
Jelly and cheese of the month clubs are the gifts that keep on giving. But, I know him; eventually he would lose interest and stockpile the jelly and cheese. I'll be over his house sometime during the summer and find a terrifying collection of rancid cheese and coagulated jars of putrid jelly with that waxy film on the top. That's cash down the pan.
The "put a bow around myself and yell surprise" one was out too. Firstly, I don't know where to get a bow that will do my hotness justice. Secondly, where exactly would this unveiling happen? At his house where his roommate, two dogs, and three cats? Or, perhaps, at my house where I have a two year old running around? Suffice it to say, I lack the venue for such a stellar gift.
I looked to see if I could find nude photos of Bea Arthur, but to my surprise, none exist. I thought that would show the amount of dedication I have to find him only the very best (horrifying) gift imaginable. I would be impressed if he somehow managed to fine nude pictures of Truman Capote for my birthday. Horrified, but impressed.
That just left me with a stuffed (taxidermist) animal, a tool belt, and dinner. Remember? I covered number ten already. I live in mountain country; just a stone's throw from the Pacific Northwest. Trust me when I tell you it is not difficult to find a taxidermist at anytime of day. It's the second leading form of employment in the state [citation needed]. I was running out of time. He was coming out of work and I was aimlessly wandering around town with my son looking for taxidermists. Luckily I pass at least seven on the way home. I went into one, son in tow and promptly asked for a stuffed groundhog with a tool belt around his waist. It took five visits to five different taxidermists before I found a compromise; a stuffed porcupine with a gun belt, in a "quick draw" pose. SOLD! I then took him to dinner at McDonald's and plopped the stuffed porcupine, gun belt and all, onto the table. I didn't know what else to do at that point, so I told him he was still bloody lucky to date me.
So, in closing ladies, it's not the thought that counts. It's the realization that we already control the source of any joy our men will get in our relationships. There's no point in going out of our way for holidays and birthdays. Wear a tight sweater, skirt, and high boots. That's enough of a present. Don't let him touch though. Every present must suck in it's own way. It's God's law.
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When not attempting to write for The Fuse Was Too Cold, Adel can be found mentally abusing college students on weekdays and threatening sales clerks on weekends.
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