My most recent ex-boyfriend (not the psychologist who wouldn't put out) decided to take me out for my birthday. However, I did not want to go out. So instead, he brought over pizza and ice cream and I subjected him to two hours of American Idol. Thus, at seven o'clock on the dot (he's always been uber punctual), Mr. Ex walked through my door with a pizza in one hand and a brown paper bag (he's an environmentalist -- no platic for this guy) in the other. A bag full of birthday presents! Wrapped in paper drawn by inner-city Hartford kids! (In addition to being an envorinmentalist, he's also has a social conscience.) It was clear to me at once that Mr. Ex had gone way above and beyond the bounds of ordinary birthday gift giving.
For a minute, I felt guilty that I hadn't been as generous on his birthday. For about half a minute, I felt guilty that I'd broken up with him, yet he'd proceeded to shower me with ye olde bag of gifts. And for about ten seconds, I contemplated returning his kindness with birthday sex. After tossing that thought aside, I dug into my gifts.
A gift certificate to a framing place. A gift card from Dunkin' Donuts. A book about Connecticut oddities. A book about gnome lore, full of wonderfully drawn pictures. And the best part, two (two!) ceramic garden gnomes. I don't have an army yet, but it's a start. Yay!
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