We’ve come up with a technical term for all this crappy present phenomena: “gift deceleration.” We, and countless other women who have fallen for commitmentphobes, have been victims of this dynamic. Basically, the longer the relationship endures, the more thoughtless and impersonal the gifts she receives are.
Normal relationship conventions dictate that, with each passing anniversary, gifts become more personal, more thoughtful, and generally more extravagant (First anniversary paper, fifth anniversary linen and so on.) When the woman in question is with a commitmentphobe, however, gifts tend to get less personal, less thoughtful, and far less extravagant. For example, whereas the very first Christmas or Valentine's day you spend together might find you unwrapping tiny blue boxes with white ribbons from Tiffany's, your third or fourth might find you pulling unwrapped gifts out of plastic bags that bear the label Mart somewhere on them, as in Walmart, Sportmart, or Kwik Mart-you get the picture. For the woman this is particularly painful because, from her standpoint, the longer the relationship lasts, the deeper her emotional connection to the man grows. As for the man in question, it's anyone's guess. The length of time he spends in the relationship could be deepening his connection, lessening it, or not really affecting it at all. From the woman's standpoint, however, one thing is clear; the gifts she is receiving get lousier and lousier each year as her boyfriends morphs from a jovial and generous St. Nick to a bad tempered and parsimonious Bad Santa.
Following are some examples of gift deceleration:
V-Day, "Paul"
2000: Purebred Pekinese pooch w/Godiva chocolates
2001: Gundt stuffed dog w/Toblerone
2002: Dog Fancy desk calendar w/Whitman’s sampler
V-Day, "Joe"
2004: Tiffany earrings
2005: Fossil watch
2006: Necklace and earring set from Claire’s boutique
V-Day, "Aaron"
2004: Couples’ golf weekend in Palm Springs
2005: Obviously gratuitous photo album engraved with American Golf Classic
2006: Tin Cup DVD
V-Day, Brian
2004: La Perla lingerie w/Chanel perfume
2005: Victoria’s secret bra and panty w/Body Shop bubble bath
2006: $8.99 Cherokee T-shirt nightie w/Jean Nate body splash
V-Day, Steve
2004: Bang & Olufson state of the art car stereo
2005: Radio Shack Hands-Free Cell Phone Kit
2006: Typing program
Monday, February 19, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
V-Day Redux
Ooh oo ooh! BeenThere reminded me some V-Days that were equally as horrifying. Okay, first, MY boyfriend right AFTER college gave me a bracelet. It was marcacite and appeared to be a bit dulled. The clasp was also broken. He had no problem telling me that he actually found it in the dirt by his work. Let me tell you that all of these guys were ‘well-to-do,’ men, full of pride. No one ever thought they were scuzzies or anything. Except for us, in retrospect.
Valentine’s Day massacre #2: My ex actually took me out to a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant. Not too shabby, right? He didn’t say “Happy Valentine’s” or anything like that, I thought that maybe he had even forgotten it was Valentine’s Day. I expected he had a hotel or something lined up, because that’s what he did the previous year. Instead, we had a drink at the bar and he told me he felt like “a moth to (my) flame.” He said that whenever he wanted to take the next step, he started thinking about how I still lived with roommates and how he was troubled that I should be further along in my life. Check please.
#3 On another year, he decided to work late, but felt bad about it and told me I could order Chinese food on his dime.
#4 I bought a dress, made reservations at a fancy restaurant, and waited outside for an hour. He forgot to set the alarm to wake up from his nap.
Valentine’s Day massacre #2: My ex actually took me out to a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant. Not too shabby, right? He didn’t say “Happy Valentine’s” or anything like that, I thought that maybe he had even forgotten it was Valentine’s Day. I expected he had a hotel or something lined up, because that’s what he did the previous year. Instead, we had a drink at the bar and he told me he felt like “a moth to (my) flame.” He said that whenever he wanted to take the next step, he started thinking about how I still lived with roommates and how he was troubled that I should be further along in my life. Check please.
#3 On another year, he decided to work late, but felt bad about it and told me I could order Chinese food on his dime.
#4 I bought a dress, made reservations at a fancy restaurant, and waited outside for an hour. He forgot to set the alarm to wake up from his nap.
St. Valentine's Day Massacre
Ms. DunThat has had a number of bad V days, no doubt about it. I, however, have had many many Valentines Days that were much worse. At least DunThat got to go on vacation. I never went anywhere. And my gifts always sucked. So, the rundown:
College boyfriend: very cheap strand of 'pearls' that broke the next week. He informed me that I wasn't getting a card because he regretted spending so much on the cheap-ass necklace.
Grad school boyfriend: Year One--'the honeymoon phase'--a very cheap plastic Casio watch. I got him a Coach leather briefcase. Did I dump him dear reader? Of course not. The next year I got a set of grapefruit spoons. When he gave them to me he said something to the effect of "I love that you don't need silly gifts like flowers, that you like practical things. Now we can eat our grapefruit together every morning" Instead of punching him in the nose, I thought "what a sweet simple guy" as I gave him $200 worth of Clinique mens skincare products. Year 3: "The Party's Over." Since this was the early 90s cordless phones were still a big deal. I searched high and low and spent what, for me, was a tortuous five days in stores like Best Buy and Electronics World searching for the phone that would best suit his needs since he was way into technology. I, you should note (becuase it is important) am NOT AT ALL into technology, phones, or anything like that. Well, V Day rolls around and I get NO GIFT! He tells me it is something very special and he will give it to me the next day. Well two days later he drops by and gives me THE EXACT SAME PHONE I GOT FOR HIM!! The bonehad says to me: "well, you talked about it so enthusiastically when you gave it to me, I thought you might like one for yourself." So lame. But I stil didn't break up with him until about six months later. When I went over to his house to get my stuff I discovered a closet that contained every gict I had ever given him--unopened. The Coach bag still wrapped in tissue paper. the skincare, all wrapped up and no doubt dried up since it had been TWO YEARS. The phone--never opened. The guy was such a commitmentphobe he couldn't even committ to opening up my gifts!!
College boyfriend: very cheap strand of 'pearls' that broke the next week. He informed me that I wasn't getting a card because he regretted spending so much on the cheap-ass necklace.
Grad school boyfriend: Year One--'the honeymoon phase'--a very cheap plastic Casio watch. I got him a Coach leather briefcase. Did I dump him dear reader? Of course not. The next year I got a set of grapefruit spoons. When he gave them to me he said something to the effect of "I love that you don't need silly gifts like flowers, that you like practical things. Now we can eat our grapefruit together every morning" Instead of punching him in the nose, I thought "what a sweet simple guy" as I gave him $200 worth of Clinique mens skincare products. Year 3: "The Party's Over." Since this was the early 90s cordless phones were still a big deal. I searched high and low and spent what, for me, was a tortuous five days in stores like Best Buy and Electronics World searching for the phone that would best suit his needs since he was way into technology. I, you should note (becuase it is important) am NOT AT ALL into technology, phones, or anything like that. Well, V Day rolls around and I get NO GIFT! He tells me it is something very special and he will give it to me the next day. Well two days later he drops by and gives me THE EXACT SAME PHONE I GOT FOR HIM!! The bonehad says to me: "well, you talked about it so enthusiastically when you gave it to me, I thought you might like one for yourself." So lame. But I stil didn't break up with him until about six months later. When I went over to his house to get my stuff I discovered a closet that contained every gict I had ever given him--unopened. The Coach bag still wrapped in tissue paper. the skincare, all wrapped up and no doubt dried up since it had been TWO YEARS. The phone--never opened. The guy was such a commitmentphobe he couldn't even committ to opening up my gifts!!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Treasured Valentines Moments
Let’s just make this simple. The best Valentines’ days have been the ones that fall the closest to the beginning of a relationship. Silly me, I was under the impression that as a relationship progresses and grows deeper, V-Days would grow more and more romantic. Is that true for any girl besides my mother? Now that I think about it, my dad has his faults, but not worshipping my mother isn’t one of them. Once, he even surprised her with a necklace she had wanted by burying it in the sand while vacationing on the beach. And she still yells at him for not wiping up the bathtub after he uses it?
My experience has been a little different.
Was St. Valentine a sadist? Why on earth would they devote one day a year that is fueled with so much expectation? Some of you are reading this and thinking that I am a boob. “It’s just a day,” and “It’s shallow to place meaning on a gift” might be some of the things you’re thinking. I hear ya. The point is, I was enough of a boob in the first place to date these guys, so holidays turned into a test that pitted what I knew to be true against the last shred of hope that they would use this day to prove my hunch wrong. Namely, that I was doing the dating equivalent of dialing the wrong number over and over again.
I’m actually, finally, over the breakup, so Valentine’s day and all that comes along with it doesn’t feel like someone’s wrenching Cupid’s arrow from my flesh anymore. I’m just pretty ho-hum about it.
I do miss the chocolate, my favorite thing. But here’s a novel idea- I CAN BUY MY OWN! I can walk into Godiva, pay money, and walk out with lovely red ribboned box of truffles for myself and Mrs. BeenThere this weekend. Or, I could ask my friend John to biy me some. And those candy hearts stink; they taste like chalk and look like suppositories.
Anyway, I had a hard time picking a winner for Worst V-Day, but this one was pretty low.
My ex and I made plans to go away on Valentine’s Day, for four nights. Montreal. In the middle of February. Driving. Actually, I have to say it would be a fantastic, out of the ordinary, cozy holiday for a less-dysfunctional couple. The hotels are all discounted so you can pamper each other in luxury for less. But it would be better if your boyfriend wasn’t on the heels of a commitment freak out and treating you like crap. Remember that, cuz it’s pretty cold not to be nestled in bed almost the entire time. Anyway, so we left New York V-Day evening around six, right after he drove all stinky and smelly from his boxing workout. I thought to myself, “He’s probably waiting until we get to the hotel to give me my card or gift.” On the way up there, we were trying to find a motel to stay at but everything was booked, once again, on account that it was VALENTINE’S DAY. We pulled into this real dive motel, Campy’s, I still remember the name on one of those signs with the individual black block letters you put up yourself. We joked that it looked and sounded like a crash pad for patrons of the strip club we saw a while back. At the counter the old guy told us that he was sold out, although I didn’t know who else besides us rejects would end up here on V-Day. As we were leaving he shifted his gaze curiously and said, “Well, I do have one room available, but it’s a little rough.” Not knowing what “a little rough” meant exactly, we accompanied him to the room. When he opened the door we saw two cots with yellow teeth-colored sheets, stained walls and carpet, and a nasty smell. I felt like we were the investigators of a crime scene right out of “Murder She Wrote” or “Mike Hammer.” My BF adopted one of the most disgusted faces I’ve ever seen in my life, up there with when I tried on for him the kilt miniskirt I bought a couple years ago when the twenty-somethings started wearing them again.
We found another hotel, and at this point, it was 11:30 and I was now kidding myself with the idiotic thought “Maybe he’s waiting until 12:00 to celebrate Valentine’s.” At this point it was pretty clear I wasn’t getting a proposal. And anything valuable never would have made it out of Campy’s. The night ended in an argument and me saying “You didn’t even get me chocolates?”
Once I stuffed down the difficult trip up, we had a couple of nice days. We actually made it to a wild animal reserve about a two hour drive away. We saw deer, ox, wolves, bears, etc. You could buy carrots and feed the animals, which was nice, and we were the only ones there. It is definitely something I wouldn’t mind repeating someday, with a guy that didn’t actually want to leave me there.
We had to stay an extra night on account of bad weather. During check out, he would only ask me to split the cost of the extra night, since it was Valentine’s Day and all. Keep in mind this guy made five times my salary. And then he paid with his corporate account! Actually, he paid for a lot of stuff with his corporate account. It wasn’t until much later that BeenThere informed me that he could charge that stuff to his place of work. So I guess he was screwing me and his boss.
On the drive back, he reflected that the best thing about it was that he got a close-up picture of a wolf.
My experience has been a little different.
Was St. Valentine a sadist? Why on earth would they devote one day a year that is fueled with so much expectation? Some of you are reading this and thinking that I am a boob. “It’s just a day,” and “It’s shallow to place meaning on a gift” might be some of the things you’re thinking. I hear ya. The point is, I was enough of a boob in the first place to date these guys, so holidays turned into a test that pitted what I knew to be true against the last shred of hope that they would use this day to prove my hunch wrong. Namely, that I was doing the dating equivalent of dialing the wrong number over and over again.
I’m actually, finally, over the breakup, so Valentine’s day and all that comes along with it doesn’t feel like someone’s wrenching Cupid’s arrow from my flesh anymore. I’m just pretty ho-hum about it.
I do miss the chocolate, my favorite thing. But here’s a novel idea- I CAN BUY MY OWN! I can walk into Godiva, pay money, and walk out with lovely red ribboned box of truffles for myself and Mrs. BeenThere this weekend. Or, I could ask my friend John to biy me some. And those candy hearts stink; they taste like chalk and look like suppositories.
Anyway, I had a hard time picking a winner for Worst V-Day, but this one was pretty low.
My ex and I made plans to go away on Valentine’s Day, for four nights. Montreal. In the middle of February. Driving. Actually, I have to say it would be a fantastic, out of the ordinary, cozy holiday for a less-dysfunctional couple. The hotels are all discounted so you can pamper each other in luxury for less. But it would be better if your boyfriend wasn’t on the heels of a commitment freak out and treating you like crap. Remember that, cuz it’s pretty cold not to be nestled in bed almost the entire time. Anyway, so we left New York V-Day evening around six, right after he drove all stinky and smelly from his boxing workout. I thought to myself, “He’s probably waiting until we get to the hotel to give me my card or gift.” On the way up there, we were trying to find a motel to stay at but everything was booked, once again, on account that it was VALENTINE’S DAY. We pulled into this real dive motel, Campy’s, I still remember the name on one of those signs with the individual black block letters you put up yourself. We joked that it looked and sounded like a crash pad for patrons of the strip club we saw a while back. At the counter the old guy told us that he was sold out, although I didn’t know who else besides us rejects would end up here on V-Day. As we were leaving he shifted his gaze curiously and said, “Well, I do have one room available, but it’s a little rough.” Not knowing what “a little rough” meant exactly, we accompanied him to the room. When he opened the door we saw two cots with yellow teeth-colored sheets, stained walls and carpet, and a nasty smell. I felt like we were the investigators of a crime scene right out of “Murder She Wrote” or “Mike Hammer.” My BF adopted one of the most disgusted faces I’ve ever seen in my life, up there with when I tried on for him the kilt miniskirt I bought a couple years ago when the twenty-somethings started wearing them again.
We found another hotel, and at this point, it was 11:30 and I was now kidding myself with the idiotic thought “Maybe he’s waiting until 12:00 to celebrate Valentine’s.” At this point it was pretty clear I wasn’t getting a proposal. And anything valuable never would have made it out of Campy’s. The night ended in an argument and me saying “You didn’t even get me chocolates?”
Once I stuffed down the difficult trip up, we had a couple of nice days. We actually made it to a wild animal reserve about a two hour drive away. We saw deer, ox, wolves, bears, etc. You could buy carrots and feed the animals, which was nice, and we were the only ones there. It is definitely something I wouldn’t mind repeating someday, with a guy that didn’t actually want to leave me there.
We had to stay an extra night on account of bad weather. During check out, he would only ask me to split the cost of the extra night, since it was Valentine’s Day and all. Keep in mind this guy made five times my salary. And then he paid with his corporate account! Actually, he paid for a lot of stuff with his corporate account. It wasn’t until much later that BeenThere informed me that he could charge that stuff to his place of work. So I guess he was screwing me and his boss.
On the drive back, he reflected that the best thing about it was that he got a close-up picture of a wolf.
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