Wednesday, 25 April 2012

The Hazards of Gift Buying

It’s the second to last day of my holiday. I’m in a busy market place. So many stalls, so many sights and sounds – so many gift ideas. I can feel myself starting to sweat, and for once it isn’t because of the weather. Where do you start when buying your boyfriend a present? A spontaneous present no less.

You often hear men lament ‘woman are SOOO hard to buy for!’ Or the ever persistent question of ‘what do women want?’ To these pointless questions I laugh, LAUGH I TELL YOU! What do women want? Just take five minutes to look around her room and you’ll know. The only reason men pretend otherwise, is that when they remember their GF’s birthday on their way home from work, and only one dingy service station is open, they can burst through the door and present said woman with some windscreen wipers and calmly say: ‘Well honey, you know I don’t find it easy shopping for a woman. The blame obviously lies with you for having a vagina.’

If men only took a minute or two to step into their partners ‘space’, the part of the house they have marked, not with urine, but with bunting that says ‘A GIRL WAS HERE’, they would know what said woman would want. Two minutes in my room and a monkey could work out that giving me anything from IKEA with a floral pattern on, or a box set from HBO would make me a very happy bunny. I want people to know what I like. Come birthdays, Christmas, anniversaries, I basically send a list to my loved ones demanding shit that I want.


Because I want a lot of stuff and I haven’t learned to shit money yet.

Assigning people BBC dramas really boosted my collection at Christmas

This is the difference between men and women. Women need a lot of stuff. We have to buy make up, clothes, nice underwear, several piles of shoes, smelly shower stuff, smelly lotion stuff. By the time all this stuff is bought in order to make us look acceptable, we don’t have money to spare for things like The Wire box set. A man on the other hand, literally has to buy some deodorant once a month and he’s done. Instead of foundation, he’s free to splurge on Mass Effect 3, instead of Palmers Coco Butter, he buys that Futurama poster he spotted last week. Consumerism opens its arms to men and says ‘whats mine is yours TAKE IT! RUN FREEEE, AS FREE AS THE WIND BLOWS!’ Meanwhile, women are chained to the Topshop website, putting at least 50 items into their wish list and counting down the days until their next birthday.

What this ultimately means, is that come your boyfriends birthday, when you demand to know what he wants (‘and no love, a love coupon doesn’t count’) he breezily replies: ‘Oh I dunno, I’ve basically got everything I want’. To a woman this is unimaginable. Isn’t there a DVD you want? (‘Bought three last week’) A CD you want to hear? (‘Ituned that shit yesterday’) How about some new shoes? (‘I already have two pairs, I don’t want to go mental’) How about... erm.... a.... love coupon? (‘Now we’re talking!’)

Unfortunately for me there wasn’t a love coupon stall in Malaga. And besides, only 6 months into the relationship, sex is still pretty much a given. Maybe in a few years  time, when my libido has calmed down, and sex becomes one of those rare treats, like Lord of the Rings boxset days, I’ll be able to get away with a cheeky throw around as present material. Until that time though, I’m stuck staring at flip flops. ‘How about these?’ My Mum suggests, holding up some leather sandals. ‘No, he’s too fussy with his flip flops.’

‘These sun glasses.’

‘He has some.’

‘A Frisbee, didn’t you say he likes Frisbee?’ (My boyfriend doesn’t like Frisbee, he loves Frisbee. He’s the vice captain of the Frisbee team. He has a custom Frisbee kit. When we make love I can in his eyes my breast blur into Frisbee circles.)

‘I don’t think I want to step into that territory.’

‘Well what else does this boy like?’

I think about this for a minute. What does he like that he doesn’t already have? And then a see it, glimmering in the distance like Jesus in a sequin cocktail dress, ‘ROCKS!’

Not just any rocks, fancy rocks. Rocks with bits of crystal in. Shiny rocks. My brain isso frazzled by stress and the Spanish sunshine, that I have started to believe my boyfriend is half Geologist and half magpie. ‘Give me the shiniest rock you have, gimme that one on the left, it’s pointy like an arrow – it’s a manly, shiny rock.’

I failed to take a picture of this manly rock, so here's the Microsoft Paint version. Look how MANLY it is!

When presented with said ‘manly’ rock at the airport I can tell he is overwhelmed with the gesture. ‘It’s a rock,’ he says.

‘Yes but it’s got those shiny bits there.’

‘Oh yeah... Looks like Fools Gold.’

‘AHA! My plan all along! I’m helping you flecks your geology muscles. If presented with a question on Fools gold in the exam you’ll be able to think back to my amazing present – in fact it’s more than a present, IT’S HELPING YOUR DEGREE! IT’S MAKING YOU A BETTER PERSON!’

‘Well it’s the most revision I’ve done all week to be honest, I bought Mass Effect while you were a way.’

Shit, I think to myself. I was going to buy him that for our anniversary.

Maybe a love coupon isn’t such a bad idea...

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