The Relationship Chronicles: Thoughts from the Grateful Sex

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October 10, 2005

The Relationship Chronicles: Thoughts from the Grateful Sex

Thanks for the wonderful responses to my post last week, Why Do People Bail? I'm amused by what Ronni first noticed, that the responses were more from the victims of bailers than from bailers themselves. B-friend?... B-friend? Do you care to defend your people?

I had one of those faboo weekends--which included my first day in I don't know how long when I DID NOT WORK. We celebrated the birthday of a friend in her late 50s with a Crone Ceremony (hope that's the proper name), celebrating her wisdom and light. I'm putting that on my list of cool stuff I want to do when I'm in my 50s, next to own villa in Chianti and hire a personal masseuse. There was an altar in the middle of the room for objects representing my friend's past. I loved how women of all ages were in the room and equally moved by the stories. Women in collective appreciation is powerful, mascara-removing stuff.

B-friend came with me to the party, though the men had to be somewhere else during the Crone Ceremony. He was struck by the gifts that were collecting on the table.

"I thought we weren't supposed to bring any gifts," he said. That's true, but this was a woman-run show, meaning gifts are going to creep in. We women like to do that--give things.

I think of my mother, who interprets "No gifts please," to mean "No more than five gifts please." Her favorite line: "This is just a little nothing I picked up." Though she'd put considerable time into selecting the gift, she'd hand it off like it was a bag of dog shit. I'm not like my mother, I'm not a gift dispenser, but I am a card writer and collector. Gifts disappear, but cards are forever in my world. I take them to every new dwelling, packed in shoe boxes.

B-friend was cleaning the office the other day and nearly threw out the card I'd written for him on our anniversary.

"Nooooooooooooo!"

He looked at my incredulously, "But I've read this already. I don't need it anymore."

"You. Can. Not, Throw. That. Out. Give it to me. Now!"

"Why? So you can put it in your shoe box? Are you ever going to even look at it again?"

He had a point. I suppose it's possible that I won't. But I imagine this enormous scrapbook in my future where these outrageously expensive pieces of stationery with thread counts will go, next to poorly written notes from junior high paramours, the holiday cards, and the other scraps of paper that I will never throw out simply because they were given to me.

Tell you what, b-friend. I'll throw out my shoeboxes when you throw out your box of scrap metal in the basement. You know, the one with the screws and bits of shrapnel that we might need to melt down someday. Case closed.

My point is: There is a gene women have, and a few unique men, that makes us appreciate the card as much--if not more--than the gift. We not only appreciate the cards, we appreciate the art of appreciating. We end up writing the damn things.

There's a natural distribution of tasks in our house; some were negotiated, some just fell into our domains. Thank you notes, birthday cards, wedding registry compliance--all of this is mine. I don't necessarily mind this; by virtue of these tasks falling in my domain I know they are being handled. Still, all I'm saying is it would be NICE to know that b-friend appreciates equally, and that if I didn't put the card in front of his face and say, "Sign it," he'd still make an effort.

I realize I've enabled b-friend. The women in my family are all enablers. Every year I get a birthday card from my brother usually saying, "Yo sis, have a happy...--Joe," and I know, this man--though he is pushing 30--never actually bought this card. Rather, he came over to my mother's house to do some laundry and there was the card waiting for him to sign.

This is actually a marked improvement--a full-scale evolution--from my father, who to this day has never even signed a card. I think the last thing he signed jointly with my mother was their marriage license. Since I was old enough to read I've received cards from my parents in my mother's gorgeous, feminine cursive, in triple underline: "WE ARE SO PROUD OF YOU. LOVE YOU THIS (four lines beneath the "this") MUCH. XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO, Mom and Dad". I used to envision my Dad sitting nearby while my mother wrote the card, saying, "Hun, don't forget an XO from me!" But now I know better.

At Christmastime we'd receive gifts from "Mom and Dad." My Dad dropped the charade when I was a teenager; he'd survey all of the presents he supposedly gave me and ask, "What'd we get you?"

I understand that very often women don't allow men to step up in this area. My mother knows she's created a monster that she can't leave alone for several days lest he forget to turn off the stove or lock the front door. She took care of all of this herself for nearly 40 years. Who knows? Maybe if my mother had made my father responsible for cards and presents he would have come through. Maybe b-friend would too. But I'm skeptical. Sure, b-friend's been raised well--he'll bring a bottle of wine to dinner, a side dish, if requested. Definitely a hunk of good meat. But that's because these are things he appreciates. The gifts and the thank yous are typically in my domain.

I was heartened the other day to see a couple in the cafe where I like to work, both writing thank you notes for what I assume were wedding gifts. I received a thank you card from my friend John--one of the only men I know who collects stationery--after his wedding. The card thanked us for the gift, the conversation, and even complimented the two of us. I'm sure women have contemplated getting rubber stamps made with their partner's signature, but here my pal actually likes to write long, thoughtful notes. Sometimes I think he belongs to another era. Today the only men who are noted for their long letters are dead and part of the literary canon.

B-friend almost threw out the invitation to our friend's Crone Ceremony.

"Don't touch it! Give it to me!"

"But it's over," he said, then surrendering. He handed over the invitation, knowing I'd never succumb to his reason.

"I'm hungry," he said. He went to our refrigerator and pulled out gargantuan bags of barbecued meat, beans, cole slaw and birthday cake. He hadn't made this food, of course. It was given to us by our friend, as we left her party.

Posted at 04:16 PM in Love & Co-Habitation, The Relationship Chronicles | Permalink

Comments

Well, I'll be darned! I'll let you blame me for this one...just like Jenna can blame me for all the collections she has. I wonder if Julie is guilty as well. I'm still waiting for the day when ALL you kids sit down and go through all the cards, invitations, letters, awards, articles, etc. that I've saved since you were born. (See, you come by that honestly.) You know exactly where they all are, and I couldn't part with them either. And Dad? He's NEVER had a clue...just as he planned it! -Mom

Posted by: Joy Des Jardins | October 10, 2005 at 04:57 PM

I'm reading this right on the heels of grumbling about HAVING to buy an anniversary present for someone. I HATE shopping for gifts. In my ideal world, no one in my family would expect me to buy them gifts for any occasion...even Xmas...especially Xmas! People say, but then you wouldn't GET gifts. That's okay! The only cards I keep are those from my boyfriend. The rest all get tossed in moves. My father (also a non-packrat) has always picked out his own cards and will often spend considerable time in the Hallmark store doing so. I respect the right of every woman to celebrate her aging process as she fits...AND if anyone ever decides to throw me a CRONE ceremony?...I'll kill them. :)

Posted by: Marilyn | October 10, 2005 at 06:38 PM

Marilyn, I hear ya! I don't keep many cards either, but most of the cards I've ever received say in them, "To Laura, , From ". I'll keep the ones where someone wrote me something special. I also hate shopping for presents if I can't think what to get for the recipient. It makes the whole thing forced, like, I'm clearly buying this for you because I have to and I don't know what else to get.

I do however love to buy presents for people when I find something I know they'd like, and can give it to them 'just because.' I wish all presents could be like this, with no pressure to buy on special occasions. But of course, I always save the 'just because' presents for the next mandatory gift-giving occasion in case I don't find anything else. Kind of takes the oomph right out of the gift, doesn't it? And yes, I'd happily trade all the presents I receive for the freedom to not have to buy presents for everyone else unless I want to.

Posted by: Laura | October 11, 2005 at 02:21 PM

Not to be picky, but should it be "Thoughts from the Grateful Gender?"

For a minute there, I wondered if this was one I should be reading at work.

Congrats on finishing the book project. Ubercool.

Posted by: DUST!N | October 11, 2005 at 08:18 PM

My mom (and I) are the same way. All the little notes, the glossy greeting cards, the love letters... all of them are tucked away for some magical day in the future when I will do *something* with them.

My husband used to do his own thank yous and Christmas cards, but it now falls to me to do all the thinking and thanking. Maybe I should start pushing the pile back onto his plate.

Posted by: Jenny | October 12, 2005 at 12:12 PM