Better Not Pout


Papa Bear and I had a wonderful pre-Christmas date last night. We have both been so stressed lately, and have tons of other shit going on (health problems, family commitments, professional stress, plus the usual holiday drama), so it was really nice to just grab dinner, play hilariously terrible mini golf, and then go home and cuddle/fuck/talk.

It would have been perfect, except that we also exchanged Christmas gifts last night. You know where this is going. I have been working on Papa Bear’s gift for a month. I wrote him a book of letters, had them professionally bound, wrapped them with a bow, and included a side of holiday shaped baked goods.

And he got me. . .a nativity set. Writing it out actually makes me laugh out loud. I know I am being silly. I feel SO ridiculous, but really? A nativity set?

I love this man. This is our first Christmas together. I gave him a completely transparent and vulnerable package of my love, and he gave me a seasonal knick-knack. To be fair, it is a knick-knack I had admired on the shelf of a fair trade store, but…

I’m not sure my disappointment showed. I did my best to hide it. I squealed over how cute it was. It really is adorable. It is not your traditional, hideous nativity. It is funky and fun, and exactly the nativity I would have picked out for myself. I just feel like, he saw that I liked it, he grabbed it, and this enabled him not to have to think about getting me something that had any real meaning or significance.

I opened his gift first, and I smiled and kissed him and said “Thank you” and acted happy. When he opened mine, he read the poem on the first page, and his reaction was exactly as I knew it would be. He teared up. He hugged me. He said he loved me, and he thanked me profusely.

“You read me so well,” he said. And it was true. I knew that there is nothing else I could have given him that would have meant more.

I am the tiniest bit hurt that he didn’t think of his gift to me in the same terms, but I absolutely know that it doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me. It may mean he doesn’t completely “get” me yet, in terms of the way that I look at gifts as they relate to special occasions, but how can I expect him to? It’s our first one. And honestly, if I was expecting jewelry (men–please do not give your girlfriend a tiny box if there is nothing shiny inside!), that is on me, not him.

Just because he has mentioned wanting to buy me a velvet choker does not mean that he owes me one. The fact that he asked what kinds of gems I like, does not mean that he needs to get me anything like that at any particular time. And then there’s the fact that we approach Christmas and presents, totally differently.

For me, special occasions are when I give the people I love, something that I have been waiting months, or all year, to give them. For financial reasons, I don’t really do “just because” gifts. If I know my husband or my children really want something, or there is something I see that I know they will love, I may buy it right away, but I will save it. For me, special occasions add meaning and sentimentality to getting something. You’ll remember when you got it, and I think, create a sense of nostalgia around whatever the gift is. But that’s just me.

For Papa Bear, it isn’t like that. Christmas is kept simple. Friends get baked goods, and immediate family members get stockings with candy, a magazine or book, and useful things like body lotion or cooking spices. He is not into buying gifts “just because its Christmas”. He is into buying gifts, “just because.”

Over the past month, while I have been toiling away on his book, he has got me:

  • A gorgeous pair of red leather gloves with buttons up the sides–not because its Christmas, but because he didn’t want my hands to be cold.
  • A cashmere scarf–not because it was expected, but because he thought it would look beautiful on me and be soft against my skin.
  • The latest book in the Crossfire series–not because he felt he should, but because he knows I love to read.
  • An embellished key to the door of his house–so I will know I am always welcome.
  • A sexy nightshirt–so I will have something to wear when I sleep over, that still allows for easy access!

He loves me. Not just because it’s Christmas, but all the time. Every damn day.

Even if he was a horrible gift giver in general, it would not change this fact, because he gives me everything. He gives me his time, his commitment, his love, and his attention. He listens to me. He is happy when I’m happy, and sad when I’m sad. I don’t care about the stupid nativity (!!?) because he is my gift.

And the cashmere scarf doesn’t hurt either.

3 Comments on “Better Not Pout”

  1. plantpage says:

    Glad to see your happy

  2. Marty says:

    I think he is a keeper. Rejoice!

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