To Moments…
Valentine’s day is a little over a month away, and for the first time in a few years I’ll be spending it single. I’m stoked, not with the idea of going out to a bar with some of my single friends and preying on depressed, vulnerable females but more because I won’t have to buy some lame gift to illustrate just how “romantic” I am to someone I’ve been involved with. Out of all the consumer created holiday’s this one is by far the most unbearable for me. I won’t pretend to understand the female psyche or why receiving a vase of flowers at the office is such a necessity, but it most certainly is. I work in a hen house, and the women in my office all have husbands. Every year they’ll receive some form of floral artistry that will without fail prompt the question, “Ohhhhh they’re beautiful…Are they from “enter husbands name here”?” As the other women all run over and huddle around said woman’s desk to inspect the arrangement. Of course they’re from her husband shit for brains, do you think they’re from some side piece or from her senior citizen father? Stop with the asinine inquisition, it’s not fooling me. What these woman are really running over to see is if their husband sent over a better arrangement, and god help the sorry son of a bitch who sent over a dozen white roses to his wife only to have her coworker receive two dozen Gerber daises. That will cause utter malice between the sheets that evening. So every year, these husbands one up themselves in an attempt to keep their wives vase in a dominant position within the office hierarchy.
Despite my contempt for Hallmarks favorite holiday, when I have a girlfriend or date I have always participated. Because apparently not doing Valentines day right, is the mark of an emotionless partner. Which brings me to Valentines day 2011, and the tipping point of my hatred for the commemoration of Saint Valentine. My girlfriend at the time was lactose intolerant, so the fall back of Godiva chocolates was out of the question. Instead I decided I’d do something more sentimental. I’d go out and buy her one of those Pandora charm bracelets that the television had been raving about since before Christmas. She did have 4 sisters after all, and now she’d have the opportunity to say, “he went to Jared!” When asked what I got her this year.
So off I went, armed with my credit card and my best intentions. When I arrived at Jared, I was overwhelmed with smarmy salesman all eager to help me find that perfect gift for their perfect commission. “I’m interested in purchasing a Pandora bracelet for my girlfriend,” I said with fleeting desire. I could tell just by the demeanor of the employees they thrived on stripping men clean of funds this time of year. The gentleman, who I’ll refer to as Douchelord from here on out, showed me a collection of bands to choose from. Like any salesman he started with the least desirable and worked his way up the price chart sounding more enthusiastic as he climbed. I purchased the white gold band, and took pride in the fact I’d known the exact size from doing some investigatory research the week prior. “Alright, now I just need some charms,” I said to Douchelord. A question that is easily answered by any man who understands the plight of a boyfriend going out to find a gift on Valentines day. But Douchelord wasn’t letting me off that easy. “we don’t sell charms sir…did you mean moments?” When he said this I looked him in the eyes and genuinely wanted to smash his face through the glass countertop that separated us. “We sell moments here at Jared, so you can look through this book and choose a few unforgettable moments in your relationship that you want to be represented on the Pandora.” So I chose a few, Doucelord put them on the bracelet and I paid. He earned his commission and ensured me how many more unforgettable moments were to come now that I had “gone to Jared.” The thing looked so damn tacky, like something you would find as a cereal box prize in Donald Trumps house. Like I said, I don’t pretend to understand the female psyche. I gave it to my ex, she was floored…She showed it off to everyone and she genuinely loved it. Months later I’d catch her staring longingly at the bracelet, clearly “in the moment.” Thinking about the events her bracelet portrayed. She was happy, so I guess I did my job, which felt good.
In the fall of this year I decided to end my relationship, a moment I’d not like to be memorable as it was brutal for both of us…but two days later I came back to my apartment to find a shiny Pandora bracelet sitting on my coffee table. Now I have a token of the breakup, and can dwell on how I destroyed all these happy memories for my ex. Thank you Jared! Here’s to unforgettable moments. Dick.
