Last year, when I was in Florida, I went through the trouble of spending hours finding the perfect iPod dock for one of my best friends, browsing e-bay and kijiji for hours, sending hundreds (quite literally) of facebook messages to my friends stuck in school, trying to figure out how we were going to get the iPod dock to her place on time. Eventually, we got it delivered.
I was glad to do it. I was glad to spend that much money and time and effort, because it was her eighteenth birthday, and she's one of my closest friends, and I love her very much.
So when she announced she was not getting any gifts for us when we turned eighteen (seventeen in my case), it was a little bit of a shock. But she explained she thought that we were getting older, and gifts were trivial to our friendship, and with university looming ahead of us, it was expensive. And after I pondered the question and made up a bunch of excuses as to why she couldn't make anything to prove that she thought of her best friends and her family on their special day (writing a personal message on a card takes time and thought, guys. Common.), I got over it. Even though she works two jobs. Even though she lives at home, has free school and can afford a boyfriend, but not $20 for her friends, once a year. But she had a point, and I nodded thoughtfully, decided it was her decision, and glad she was my friend, continued with my life, having soothed the subtle wave of indignation that had rippled through my ego.
And then, a couple weeks later, as we (well, I wasn't present, but my group of friends was, and clearly we're linked through some sort of supernatural liaison. Clearly.) were browsing Chapters, she dropped: "If you guys don't get this for me, I will be so mad." (This may be slightly unfair to her, as I am paraphrasing a paraphrase, but I'm sure the intention didn't get lost in the translation. Which is why I won't develop on the "mad", and say that a gift is not a due, but a token of appreciation, and that if I decide it reminds me of you and I can afford it, I will be thankful for the suggestion, but otherwise shut up and be thankful for whatever token of thoughtfulness I decided to get you. But I won't develop on that.). Which, in all honesty, when I heard about it, made my jaw drop. I'm pretty sure I literally forgot my mouth was capable of keeping itself shut and I stood in the middle of my grand-mother's kitchen, holding a banana in one hand, the phone pressed to my ear in the other and my mouth hanging open for a full thirty seconds, unable to actually form a coherent thought.
Which may seem like an over dramatic reaction, but it seemed like the reasonable thing to do. To top it off, when I finally remembered I was capable of not looking like an idiot, I asked for the rest of the story: After my friend Sarah reminded her of her little idea regarding birthday gifts, said friend responded with "but nineteenth birthdays are so much more important than eighteenth birthdays."
Really, chiquita? Well, I'm not expecting much for my next birthday, which is when I will be able to drink, legally have sex and also vote, three things who's outcomes may very well change the history of this country, depending on how seriously I take them, I will not be expecting much from you. But the second I hit my nineteenth birthday, there better be confettis and cupcakes, child. (and people call me high maintenance. *snort*).
xoxo,
~Vero
PS: Shout out to Dee who I was telling this story about, and not being able to take out all my frustration out that way, prompted the idea of this post. Also, if I seem distracted, it's because my phone didn't stop ringing. Thanks for the med-provoqued comments Dee, they were super entertaining. Keep it up. and get well soon. mouah.
I was glad to do it. I was glad to spend that much money and time and effort, because it was her eighteenth birthday, and she's one of my closest friends, and I love her very much.
So when she announced she was not getting any gifts for us when we turned eighteen (seventeen in my case), it was a little bit of a shock. But she explained she thought that we were getting older, and gifts were trivial to our friendship, and with university looming ahead of us, it was expensive. And after I pondered the question and made up a bunch of excuses as to why she couldn't make anything to prove that she thought of her best friends and her family on their special day (writing a personal message on a card takes time and thought, guys. Common.), I got over it. Even though she works two jobs. Even though she lives at home, has free school and can afford a boyfriend, but not $20 for her friends, once a year. But she had a point, and I nodded thoughtfully, decided it was her decision, and glad she was my friend, continued with my life, having soothed the subtle wave of indignation that had rippled through my ego.
And then, a couple weeks later, as we (well, I wasn't present, but my group of friends was, and clearly we're linked through some sort of supernatural liaison. Clearly.) were browsing Chapters, she dropped: "If you guys don't get this for me, I will be so mad." (This may be slightly unfair to her, as I am paraphrasing a paraphrase, but I'm sure the intention didn't get lost in the translation. Which is why I won't develop on the "mad", and say that a gift is not a due, but a token of appreciation, and that if I decide it reminds me of you and I can afford it, I will be thankful for the suggestion, but otherwise shut up and be thankful for whatever token of thoughtfulness I decided to get you. But I won't develop on that.). Which, in all honesty, when I heard about it, made my jaw drop. I'm pretty sure I literally forgot my mouth was capable of keeping itself shut and I stood in the middle of my grand-mother's kitchen, holding a banana in one hand, the phone pressed to my ear in the other and my mouth hanging open for a full thirty seconds, unable to actually form a coherent thought.
Which may seem like an over dramatic reaction, but it seemed like the reasonable thing to do. To top it off, when I finally remembered I was capable of not looking like an idiot, I asked for the rest of the story: After my friend Sarah reminded her of her little idea regarding birthday gifts, said friend responded with "but nineteenth birthdays are so much more important than eighteenth birthdays."
Really, chiquita? Well, I'm not expecting much for my next birthday, which is when I will be able to drink, legally have sex and also vote, three things who's outcomes may very well change the history of this country, depending on how seriously I take them, I will not be expecting much from you. But the second I hit my nineteenth birthday, there better be confettis and cupcakes, child. (and people call me high maintenance. *snort*).
xoxo,
~Vero
PS: Shout out to Dee who I was telling this story about, and not being able to take out all my frustration out that way, prompted the idea of this post. Also, if I seem distracted, it's because my phone didn't stop ringing. Thanks for the med-provoqued comments Dee, they were super entertaining. Keep it up. and get well soon. mouah.
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