he gave me vintage earrings

he gave me vintage earrings
LAST Christmas, my boyfriend and I made a pact not to exchange gifts. There was nothing either of us really needed or wanted,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], we agreed. We would save our money and enjoy a day of Quaker-like simplicity.
But as the days dwindled down to December 25, my anti-consumerist resolve weakened and, on Christmas Eve,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I sneaked out on a shopping expedition. This was not a straightforwardly generous gesture. Naturally, I wanted my boyfriend to be happy with the five pairs of underpants and the green and orange Puma sneakers that I purchased for him, but somewhere in the blackest recesses of my heart, I was also looking forward to the moral advantage that would accrue when I gave on Christmas morning and did not receive.
Alas, when I produced my hastily wrapped offerings at breakfast the next day, my boyfriend announced that he, too, had got a little something for me. "Oh," I said, rather grumpily, "I hope it's nothing fancy. Yours are only tiny things."
"No, no," he said. "Nothing big."
"Well, you open yours first," I said. He duly unwrapped the sneakers. They were one size too small. "They're great," he said,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], hobbling heroically about the kitchen. "I like them tight." Then he unwrapped the underpants. In my whirl,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I had failed to notice that they were dolly-size. And purple. "I don't understand it,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," I said, when my boyfriend gamely tried a pair on. "They looked black in the store."
"They're great," he said, making some adjustments. "Come off it. They're obscene,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," I said. "Very modern," he said. "Now, go on - open your present."
He handed me a tiny red jewellery box. Inside was a pair of vintage platinum and diamond earrings. Oh bloody hell. There's nothing like giving five pairs of ill-fitting, purple man-panties and getting diamond earrings in return to make you feel cheap. The worst thing was, I didn't even like the earrings.
No, that's not quite true. I did like them. They were beautiful - just the sort of exquisite, impeccably tasteful jewels that women freak out over. But even as I put them on,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I knew they weren't for me. These were earrings designed for a wispy flapper's shell-like ear. Perched in my fat lobes, they looked sad and incongruous. Like aristocracy in exile.
My first instinct was, of course, to lie. When we were growing up, my siblings and I were trained to accept all gifts, however inappropriate or hideous,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], with a show of intense appreciation, however implausible: "Dear Uncle Charlie,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], the pack of Blu-Tac you sent me for my birthday was the best present I got." Taking presents back to the shop and exchanging them for other,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], nicer things, was, we were given to understand, horribly mercenary. And rather vulgar, too. Consequently, in my entire life of present-receiving, I have never been given anything that I didn't profess, rather hysterically, to adore.
Until now. As I sat on the living room floor, examining my fabulous, expensive earrings, I thought of what they represented in mortgage payment. I thought of all the coming years in which I would have to continue faking my delight in them - all the nights when my boyfriend would ask, as we left the house: "Hey, why don't you wear those lovely earrings I got you?" and I would weakly reply: "Oh, yes! What a great idea. I'll go put them on now . . ." It seemed silly. So I took a deep breath and confessed: "It's not the earrings,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]," I told him, "it's me . . ."
A few days later,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], he went to return them. He came back disconsolate. "They don't do returns on their vintage pieces," he reported. "They gave me a credit note." I offered to go in and tell them that he had bought the earrings in a fit of extravagance, that he was, in fact, an unemployed ne'er-do-well and we needed the money to buy groceries. But he flatly refused. "You'll have to go in and see if there's something you want instead," he said.
The store turned out to be a fantastically pretentious little place on Montana Avenue, presided over by a creepy woman called Daphne. Daphne obviously fancied herself as something of an expert on the psychology of selling. She kept looking me up and down knowingly and saying things like: "This necklace would be too intricate for you, I can tell. But I'm guessing you'd find this ring a lot of fun."
Pretty soon, I wanted to kill her. Beethoven was playing on the sound system when I first walked in, but, after about five minutes, Daphne announced that the music wasn't right for a "casual" sort of person like me, and changed the tape to something plinky plonky and New Age. I was so offended I could barely speak. The more sullen I got, the more loquacious Daphne became. "How do you feel about emeralds? Wait,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], don't tell me,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], you're a Virgo, aren't you? Hey,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], is that an Australian accent you have?"
Brow-beaten into simulating some interest in her wares, I inquired about the price of one of her rings. "$1,250," she said. "Yes, it is quite costly," she added, as I handed it back to her, "but perhaps" - she giggled coyly - "you could spare a little bit from your allowance to make up the shortfall on the credit note." I looked at her blankly. Allowance? "Or maybe," she went on, "if you asked nicely, you could get hubby to give you a bit more this month?" With a great snort of indignation, I stomped out of the shop.
I'm not at all sure what I'm going to do now. I might try to sell the credit note to someone else. Failing that, I may have to picket the shop until Daphne relents and gives me the cash. At any rate, the moral is clear. My mother was right - you weave a very tawdry web for yourself when you start haggling over your presents. Accepting everything you're given with blanket delight and gratitude really is the best policy.
相关的主题文章：

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

The post has been approved 0 times