![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
It’s December. I’ve already bought her Christmas presents. Spent a small fortune, but she deserves it all and I wish I would have bought her more. I consider returning them but I can’t even come close to doing so.
I’m leaving for Colorado for the week around Christmas. I had asked her to come with me but she couldn’t, she wanted to though. I think she would have loved it but at the same time she would have been complaining about the cold the whole damn time, but in that way that only boyfriends can love. Makes me smirk just to think about that. Besides, it would have just given me a great excuse to hold her close. Like I would have really needed an excuse.
Since I was leaving we had planned to have an early Christmas and exchange presents before I left. The time when I would leave soon came and she knew it. She called.
”Are we still going to give each other gifts before you leave?”
”Yes, of course.”
I go to her house and I fell uncomfortable. I walk in the door and there is the familiar smell of her home, it can only be described as a warm scent and it bothers me. I look around and realize this is what I’m throwing away. I didn’t know it then but this would be the last time I saw the inside of her house.
I suddenly realize that I am angry and I don’t know why. I hand her the gifts I brought and I really don’t say anything. The TV is on in her living room where we sit. I pay more attention to the television. I think it’s that I can’t bear to look at her. I sit down in the chair I would always sit in and while I had almost gotten to the point of thinking of her house as my second home I feel like I’m here for the very first time and in someone else’s skin. She brings me my gifts. A few boxes and on top some CD’s that she made for me. I look at them, one is a CD I had asked for but I obviously wanted the actually bought CD not a copy of it and the other was a compilation of a bunch of songs and artists I don’t like or care about. I toss them aside.
I go back to the TV. Mostly because I don’t think I can watch her joyously open the gifts I got her. She notices me watching it, forgetting about her and not touching her gifts to me. I don’t care that she sees my lack of attention to the event at hand. It’s my silent way of saying that I don’t care and none of this means anything to me. It’s all part of my act for her to hate me. But is it really and act, the lines start to blur.
We sit on opposite sides of the room. She stops opening the package she was hard at work on. Which must have taken a great deal of self control on her part. She loves gifts, it used to make me smile so big it almost hurt to watch her open a gift, especially one from me. Now I can hardly stand to look at her doing it. Maybe I’m afraid to smile. Probably.
“Aren’t you going to open your gifts?”
She’s being so sweet and loving. I know she’s hurt that some bad television show has captured my attention over the things she carefully picked out for me. But she doesn’t show it. She’s so strong, stronger than she knows. I can’t even imagine the excuses she comes up with for my behavior. After a slight hesitation I answer her in an almost annoyed voice. How dare she interrupt me watching TV at her own house! I gave her gifts, what more does she want from me?
”Oh…yeah.”
I start to open the gifts in quite possibly the most lackluster and pathetic way possible. Am I still “acting”? Am I pretending? I don’t really know anymore. Am I acting this way for myself or for her? Nothing she got me could be that amazing is all I can think. While I’m sure she has been planning for months what to get me I know that she most likely had been procrastinating. She always waited till the last moment. Then we broke up and I’m sure that affected what she got for me. Whether she knew it or not, it had to have been in the back of her mind.
Either I was right or she just got me some horrible gifts. I opened the heavy box first, it had some weight to it, yes, but it wasn’t that large. Yet it seemed to be the “largest” of all my gifts from her. Seemed like as good a place to start as any. It was a DVD player. Not just and DVD player mind you, but a no-name $30 brand that I had off-handedly talked about. I had figured I would buy it myself but I guess she was paying attention one of the times I was talking.
She saw me open it and she seemed proud of herself. I don’t think I could have looked more displeased. I barely glanced at it and then put it down to pick up the next bundled up “gift” in pretty paper.
I don’t know why I felt so angry and disappointed by the DVD player. It was exactly what I had been wanting and it showed that she cared and listened to me. Was I playing a role again? Or am I really just displeased and angry with myself for letting her go? I seem to have effectively blurred that line into pure invisibility; even to me. Maybe I’m not acting; maybe I feel the way I do because she got me something I wanted. Because it makes all of this just that much harder.
I pick up the next box. It’s light, very light. I’m not paying attention to her anymore; I’m not even looking in her direction. I think she is excited by the things I got her and she is saying things like, “Thank you” and “Exactly what I wanted” and “This will go great with…”, but I have mostly stopped listening. I answer her, speaking only in a generalized tongue with phrases like, “Your welcome.”, “Yeah.”, and “Great.”. I bet she can tell. And yet I can’t seem to care.
I open the light box and ‘oh joy filled day’, it’s a t-shirt. I had suspected clothing when I first lifted the box up. She was always pushing to shop for clothes for me. Problem is the stuff she wanted to get me were $50 jeans that look like they’ve already been worn and polo shirts with bad color combination stripes. I have a certain kind of shirt that I like. Simple, plain, monochrome ringers. It’s pretty much all I wear. Most of the ones I have are at least a year old as I hate shopping. Some of them are four and five years old. She used to always joke with me about it. About how old my shirts are and that I really only own one shirt in a bunch of different colors. I’d always got defensive, saying that I found what I liked and stuck with it and I’m not changing now.
So, when I saw the brand new dark gray shirt in the same style as all my others I couldn’t help but feel––
“You don’t have one that color, right?”
She is so happy with herself; she already knows she is right.
“No, I don’t…”
I just stare into the box at the shirt like I’m starring into a black hole. I can’t help but feel–– pissed and ripped off. A shirt? A goddamn shirt. Whoop-di-frickin-do. I only take it out of the box to wad up and toss next to the DVD player and CDs on the floor. One more shitty gift that pales in comparison to what I got her. My presents for her are excellent. I didn’t need her to tell me what she wanted I knew exactly, they’re perfect.
I start to wonder if it stings her yet. If I’m pushing the blade deeper and deeper. I’ll keep pushing it till I feel it hit bone and I’ll walk away, leaving the dagger in her.
There is but one gift left from her. I take it into my hands and I already know what it is. I love movies. She of course knows that and so that’s what she got me. Two in fact. I rip though the paper, slightly excited by what movies they are. I of course don’t show any such emotion. Finally, I wrangle them free of the wrapping, at first, I’m somewhat happy. Two films I had been wanting for some time, two comedies. I very quickly returned to my displeasure though because I know I won’t be watching them any time soon. I have no desire to laugh. And in my twisted mind, I blame her.
So here we sit. She filled with joy and me with contempt. She’s looking over the wonderful things I got her trying to make sense of why I am the way I am. And I’m, once again, looking over at the TV, my back to her, trying not to think about the things she got me.
It occurs to me that we are done here so I pick up my “things” and head for the door.
“I should get going, still need to pack for tomorrow.”
“Oh, ok, yeah…I’ll talk to you when you get back?”
I think she started that sentence as a statement and somewhere along the way she looked into my eyes and it became a question. I make a sound that can’t be spelled and make a head gesture that universally means ‘yes’. I’m pretty much lying again. I have no intention of contacting her.
I’m leaving for Colorado for the week around Christmas. I had asked her to come with me but she couldn’t, she wanted to though. I think she would have loved it but at the same time she would have been complaining about the cold the whole damn time, but in that way that only boyfriends can love. Makes me smirk just to think about that. Besides, it would have just given me a great excuse to hold her close. Like I would have really needed an excuse.
Since I was leaving we had planned to have an early Christmas and exchange presents before I left. The time when I would leave soon came and she knew it. She called.
”Are we still going to give each other gifts before you leave?”
”Yes, of course.”
I go to her house and I fell uncomfortable. I walk in the door and there is the familiar smell of her home, it can only be described as a warm scent and it bothers me. I look around and realize this is what I’m throwing away. I didn’t know it then but this would be the last time I saw the inside of her house.
I suddenly realize that I am angry and I don’t know why. I hand her the gifts I brought and I really don’t say anything. The TV is on in her living room where we sit. I pay more attention to the television. I think it’s that I can’t bear to look at her. I sit down in the chair I would always sit in and while I had almost gotten to the point of thinking of her house as my second home I feel like I’m here for the very first time and in someone else’s skin. She brings me my gifts. A few boxes and on top some CD’s that she made for me. I look at them, one is a CD I had asked for but I obviously wanted the actually bought CD not a copy of it and the other was a compilation of a bunch of songs and artists I don’t like or care about. I toss them aside.
I go back to the TV. Mostly because I don’t think I can watch her joyously open the gifts I got her. She notices me watching it, forgetting about her and not touching her gifts to me. I don’t care that she sees my lack of attention to the event at hand. It’s my silent way of saying that I don’t care and none of this means anything to me. It’s all part of my act for her to hate me. But is it really and act, the lines start to blur.
We sit on opposite sides of the room. She stops opening the package she was hard at work on. Which must have taken a great deal of self control on her part. She loves gifts, it used to make me smile so big it almost hurt to watch her open a gift, especially one from me. Now I can hardly stand to look at her doing it. Maybe I’m afraid to smile. Probably.
“Aren’t you going to open your gifts?”
She’s being so sweet and loving. I know she’s hurt that some bad television show has captured my attention over the things she carefully picked out for me. But she doesn’t show it. She’s so strong, stronger than she knows. I can’t even imagine the excuses she comes up with for my behavior. After a slight hesitation I answer her in an almost annoyed voice. How dare she interrupt me watching TV at her own house! I gave her gifts, what more does she want from me?
”Oh…yeah.”
I start to open the gifts in quite possibly the most lackluster and pathetic way possible. Am I still “acting”? Am I pretending? I don’t really know anymore. Am I acting this way for myself or for her? Nothing she got me could be that amazing is all I can think. While I’m sure she has been planning for months what to get me I know that she most likely had been procrastinating. She always waited till the last moment. Then we broke up and I’m sure that affected what she got for me. Whether she knew it or not, it had to have been in the back of her mind.
Either I was right or she just got me some horrible gifts. I opened the heavy box first, it had some weight to it, yes, but it wasn’t that large. Yet it seemed to be the “largest” of all my gifts from her. Seemed like as good a place to start as any. It was a DVD player. Not just and DVD player mind you, but a no-name $30 brand that I had off-handedly talked about. I had figured I would buy it myself but I guess she was paying attention one of the times I was talking.
She saw me open it and she seemed proud of herself. I don’t think I could have looked more displeased. I barely glanced at it and then put it down to pick up the next bundled up “gift” in pretty paper.
I don’t know why I felt so angry and disappointed by the DVD player. It was exactly what I had been wanting and it showed that she cared and listened to me. Was I playing a role again? Or am I really just displeased and angry with myself for letting her go? I seem to have effectively blurred that line into pure invisibility; even to me. Maybe I’m not acting; maybe I feel the way I do because she got me something I wanted. Because it makes all of this just that much harder.
I pick up the next box. It’s light, very light. I’m not paying attention to her anymore; I’m not even looking in her direction. I think she is excited by the things I got her and she is saying things like, “Thank you” and “Exactly what I wanted” and “This will go great with…”, but I have mostly stopped listening. I answer her, speaking only in a generalized tongue with phrases like, “Your welcome.”, “Yeah.”, and “Great.”. I bet she can tell. And yet I can’t seem to care.
I open the light box and ‘oh joy filled day’, it’s a t-shirt. I had suspected clothing when I first lifted the box up. She was always pushing to shop for clothes for me. Problem is the stuff she wanted to get me were $50 jeans that look like they’ve already been worn and polo shirts with bad color combination stripes. I have a certain kind of shirt that I like. Simple, plain, monochrome ringers. It’s pretty much all I wear. Most of the ones I have are at least a year old as I hate shopping. Some of them are four and five years old. She used to always joke with me about it. About how old my shirts are and that I really only own one shirt in a bunch of different colors. I’d always got defensive, saying that I found what I liked and stuck with it and I’m not changing now.
So, when I saw the brand new dark gray shirt in the same style as all my others I couldn’t help but feel––
“You don’t have one that color, right?”
She is so happy with herself; she already knows she is right.
“No, I don’t…”
I just stare into the box at the shirt like I’m starring into a black hole. I can’t help but feel–– pissed and ripped off. A shirt? A goddamn shirt. Whoop-di-frickin-do. I only take it out of the box to wad up and toss next to the DVD player and CDs on the floor. One more shitty gift that pales in comparison to what I got her. My presents for her are excellent. I didn’t need her to tell me what she wanted I knew exactly, they’re perfect.
I start to wonder if it stings her yet. If I’m pushing the blade deeper and deeper. I’ll keep pushing it till I feel it hit bone and I’ll walk away, leaving the dagger in her.
There is but one gift left from her. I take it into my hands and I already know what it is. I love movies. She of course knows that and so that’s what she got me. Two in fact. I rip though the paper, slightly excited by what movies they are. I of course don’t show any such emotion. Finally, I wrangle them free of the wrapping, at first, I’m somewhat happy. Two films I had been wanting for some time, two comedies. I very quickly returned to my displeasure though because I know I won’t be watching them any time soon. I have no desire to laugh. And in my twisted mind, I blame her.
So here we sit. She filled with joy and me with contempt. She’s looking over the wonderful things I got her trying to make sense of why I am the way I am. And I’m, once again, looking over at the TV, my back to her, trying not to think about the things she got me.
It occurs to me that we are done here so I pick up my “things” and head for the door.
“I should get going, still need to pack for tomorrow.”
“Oh, ok, yeah…I’ll talk to you when you get back?”
I think she started that sentence as a statement and somewhere along the way she looked into my eyes and it became a question. I make a sound that can’t be spelled and make a head gesture that universally means ‘yes’. I’m pretty much lying again. I have no intention of contacting her.
Leave a comment
