So why are you bothering asking me? It’s that kind of lack of spontaneity, that desire to have everything cleared and pre-approved, that frustrates me about you. Why won’t you take a risk sometime? Why don’t you dare to disappoint me, in the hope that you might provoke some excitement? Maybe I don’t want an incredibly expensive box of luxury goods from Provence every month (In this case, I do), but I do want (in addition to that) some thrills—something to show you want to please and not just placate me.
Every time I give you a few gift ideas, you seem incapable of making a choice. Remember when I added athletic socks and Brazilian chocolate to your shared Google Doc gift list? You got me the athletic socks because it was listed first, even though I complained about the lack of good dark chocolate and the state of the upcoming Olympics in Rio for weeks leading up to my birthday! Dammit, I want to be surprised once in a while!
Besides, I’ve already made a list of some of the subscriptions I’d like, and left it on the fridge. What, do I have to remind you of what’s there?
- Twee-dels: Locally sourced, artisan-made dreidels
- Dick in a Box: Richard Petty memorabilia
- Glimpses of Inspiration: Elegant postcards written by Sudanese war refugees
- Candles: Lightbulbs.
- Giuletierra Bonafidale di Milano: Athletic socks
Are you scared of me being excited? Is the emotion of spontaneous happiness somehow threatening to you? It hurts me that you’d think that. I’m really a simple person that just likes giving gifts to myself through the mail and then selling most of them on eBay because they’re not quite right. And I just want you to surprise me by giving me recurring packages with repetitive themes that I subtly hint you should buy for me. Is that too much to ask?
What really pains me is that I give so much of myself to you, and you don’t even notice. Remember when I cooked that week of amazing meals because you were so busy at work and I had just gotten a box from “Sue Chef?” You said you loved them, but you nearly threw away those recipe cards, even though I added extensive notes about which ingredients to research to see if they could be found at Kroger. Very few of them could, but that’s not the point. The point is that I’m crying out for attention, and all you seem to notice is that there is a lot of cardboard to stick in our little recycling bin. Those boxes were full of wasted opportunities, mister. Full of them. Full.
But now they’re empty. What are we going to do? How are we going to get through this? Maybe you should check out mysubscriptionaddiction.com’s recommendations for anniversary gifts. Go ahead. See if you can stir my heart. Use my laptop. The page is open and probably has a few things starred. I’d be pretty excited if a romantic package showed up and then continued to do so monthly. I only hope that doesn’t scare you.