One happy conundrum of a long and successful marriage.
Joseph Mackereth
Neither my husband Patrick nor I have any real urgent needs. Well, none that can be gift wrapped. I mean I would love to have a right knee that wasn’t as cranky as a junkyard dog but we’re not putting a bow on that. Patrick would love to have a retirement island with a light breeze and sunny days, and that’s the reason I buy lottery tickets. I cannot imagine we’re going to be unwrapping that dream anytime soon.
What do you want for your birthday? Our anniversary is coming up. Any thoughts? What do you want for Christmas? I don’t know. So holidays and birthdays are a bit of a conundrum for us now. What to give a person who instead really needs to hire a dumpster and clear out a bunch of stuff, not bring more things into the house. What will be useful and appreciated? It’s a stumper, all right.
I have always refused gifts that are “dustibles.” That’s something that’s sold as a collectible, but really ends up being a dustible. I am pretty particular about not getting anything that adds to my chore list unless it’s a puppy. I dread getting a gift that has a plug, because often those gifts are chore-adjacent. Don’t dare give me a new vacuum cleaner or crock pot and expect a warm response. I’m a practical woman, but come on. That’s the adult equivalent of getting underwear as a gift when you’re a kid. I want something to play with, something fun, something that makes me smile. Hey, I think we’ve circled back to a puppy again.
It’s not just me. Whenever I ask my husband for gift ideas, it’s all, “I don’t need a thing.” Fine. What size do think your don’t-need-a-thing wears now? Would you like your don’t-need-a-thing in blue or green? Would you prefer your don’t-need-a-thing as version 9.0 or do you want the latest upgrade don’t-need-a-thing?
I know he gets frustrated with me, too. I mean, every year, every occasion, every time he asks me what I want, it’s the same. A puppy. I always want a puppy or a dog. My goal for retirement is to be able to afford all the dogs I want. That’s another reason I buy lottery tickets. Perhaps we can combine our retirement desires and have a lovely, breezy island full of dogs. Common goals are good. They’re the key to a solid relationship. Compatibility counts.
Every so often Patrick will ask for one specific thing, and that thing is always See’s candy. See’s is an old candy shop based in California and they make some truly scrumptious chocolates. They’re not easy to find on this side of the country, so it is a special treat. Whenever I can, I order his favorite milk chocolate with nuts from See’s. I guess other than puppies, I love seafood. If all else fails, I can count on my husband to walk in with three pounds of jumbo shrimp or sea scallops and I am as happy as a clam, so to speak. Not something you can gift wrap, but always appreciated. Bonus points, since neither seafood nor chocolates ever need to be dusted.
Of course, no matter how many times I hear that he doesn’t need a thing, I have to buy a thing. It just feels wrong to skip a major life event like an anniversary or a birthday without presenting a wrapped thing. He bows to the same societal pressure. That’s how we end up with gift-wrapped things that we hope will be appreciated by each other but we’re never quite sure.
One Christmas morning, we’re settling down in the living room with mugs of coffee and prettily wrapped boxes to celebrate the season. We both pick up boxes and start peeling paper off. Almost simultaneously, we both lift out identical red VW van coffee mugs and start laughing. Yep, we are just that compatible. We bought each other the exact same gift. Patrick ordered mine from the other side of the world. I got his in a little local mom-and-pop shop. Out of the four colors offered, we both chose red. Now we are the proud owners of matching don’t-need-a-things.
The story above appears in our January/February 2020 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in to the digital edition with your active digital subscription. Thank you for your support!