|December 31, 2000
[happy birthday yesterday, deb ... and happy four yrs. of sobriety, david!]
Franz bought me a new watch yesterday: a lovely, platinum-and-gold Anne Klein bracelet watch, marked down 40% at Macy's in downtown San Francisco.
While he was at it, he also bought me a pair of gold and silver hoop earrings: nice tasteful expensive earrings. The kind I never buy for myself. The kind that won't turn my earlobes green after a couple of hours. (The kind, incidentally, that would look fabulous at job interviews.) I had to chip in ten bucks to cover the sales tax ... plus I had to buy my own fish and chips, later in the day ... but that was OK.
It's the thought that counts.
Of course, Franz doesn't know that he bought me this stuff. For that matter, he probably doesn't even know that he gave me a Macy's gift card for Christmas, before I left on vacation last week. I give full credit to the Human Resources Director Person for that little bit of inspiration (and generosity). He doesn't know that I opened the gift card the same day I was tearfully packing up the contents of my office ... unsure whether or not I was ever going to return to the Totem Pole Company. He doesn't know that I immediately stuffed the gift card into the nether regions of my wallet, too disgusted with him to even look at it. He doesn't know that I considered throwing the gift card away. Hacking it into pieces. Cramming it down a garbage disposal. Popping it into a microwave. Feeding it to the pigeons. Tossing it into a bonfire.
(Giving it to my ex-husband as a Christmas present.)
Franz doesn't know that I finally decided to go ahead and use the gift card anyway, mainly because I wanted a new watch to match my new engagement ring ... and because free money is free money, as David would say ... and because I may be pissed-off but I'm not totally stoopid ... and because I felt that I have EARNED that fudking gift card, a bazillion times over.
In fact, if he had given me a gift card commensurate with my actual worth, I would be sitting here composing this journal entry on a brand-new custom-built Pentium III, even as we speak.
But what can I tell you? A free watch is a free watch.
There was some conversation, before I left for TicTac, about David buying me a watch for Christmas.
(Actually, I believe the "conversation" went somewhere along the lines of me pointing to the Fossil display case and saying "This is the one I want, OK?," while he stood by, taking notes.)
The actual fact of the matter, though, is that I had suggested a watch as a *gift idea* more out of default -- and desperation -- than anything else. I know how difficult and confusing it is for David to shop for me. I know that he likes to have a concrete idea in mind before he hits the stores ... exact brand name, exact size, exact color, exact species. Plus I knew I was going to need a new watch pretty soon, since my new engagement ring is platinum, and since every single piece of jewelry I own, including my old watch, is gold, and since I am extremely anal-retentive when it comes to jewelry. No mixed metals for this girl, thankyouverymuch. I felt that suggesting a watch was a lot more helpful -- a lot kinder-- than just saying "Buy me a sweater or something" and leaving him to his own adorably inept masculine devices. But it really wasn't a huge emotional issue for me. I figured that if he got me a watch, great. If he didn't get me a watch, or if he got me one that I secretly hated, which seems unlikely but you never know, I would simply go out and buy one for myself.
After all, I had a Macy's gift card in my wallet.
So I didn't feel so much as a fraction of a *disappointment molecule* when I opened my Christmas presents, the day after I returned from TicTac, and he'd given me the Beatles #1 CD and a lovely little travel journal. I hugged him and thanked him sincerely. But I think HE thought I was disappointed.
"I should have bought you a watch," he said mournfully.
I held up my left hand and pointed to the diamond on my ring finger. "See this?" I said.
"This pretty much gets you off the hook for Christmas this year," I said. And next Christmas too, probably. Not to mention New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, Easter, Arbor Day, National SecraTerri's Day AND the next couple of National Q-Tip Safety Awareness Days, put together.
"THIS is what I really wanted, OK? This," -- and I leaned over and kissed him again, deeply -- "and this."
I think he finally believes me.