You’re probably wondering what that was about.
I forget that I no longer have four years’ worth of archives attached to this blog. I forget I can no longer crosslink to past blog posts and you can’t search my blog to find out what something bizarre like the Putty Ear might refer to.
So let me explain.
The year was 2007. The year I first spent dating The Boyfriend. Valentines Day fell two months after we’d first started seeing each other. You know, that really awkward phase in a relationship, where you’re still getting to know each other and no-one has really discussed feelings and the word ‘love’ isn’t even whispered for fear of it suddenly revealing the other person to be a commitment-phobe and them being startled away. You can’t not get anything, because what if the other person got you something, and you got them nothing, and then you’re the one left looking like an asshole who doesn’t care. Or you do get them something, and it turns out that it’s way cheesy and you put way too much thought and effort and all the other person got you was some edible underwear and some fake roses that are actually panties themselves ( I swear, I’ve seen the latter for sale at Classic Wholesalers). You have to find the gift that says both ‘I care and if I shouldn’t care, this gift will at least look like I don’t care’. You see, it’s hard to find the gift that says “I’m trying to be all suave about this, but secretly I’m hoping like hell it’s an ‘iloveyou’ present.
And you. You with your rose-shaped scented candles, your lovebug toy. Your butterfly lawn decorations and your fairy lights. You with your perfect gifts. Gifts that I loved. The iloveyougifts I was hoping for. And me, with this.
The iloveyounotandlooklikeanasshole gift. The putty ear, the wind-up duck and the bag of bath toys. Because I’m as witty as fuck and stupid sentimental bullshit Hallmark holidays mean nothing to me, because I’m fucking cool, man. The fucking icequeen. Did I mention I’m an asshole?
Yeah. Valentines 2007 I gave his father a bag of cheap, silly little gag gifts. And he took me out to dinner, told me I was beautiful, plied me with gifts and then took me home and impregnated me. And thereafter that kind, thoughtful man was stuck with my miserable, twisted, sick-sense-of-humour’d ass for the rest of his life as a result.
He loves me. In spite of the putty ear. Despite the putty ear. Regardless of everything it stood for, and everything it symbolised in our relationship. I’d always try to make a joke out of everything, he’d get it perfect without having even appeared to exerted any effort and I land up looking like the asshole. He loves me despite the fact that I should, officially, get the worst girlfriend of the year award. Perhaps even a lifetime achievement award in this category. I’d certainly be deserving.
Despite all that. Despite all of my massive suckage, he still loves me.
How do I convince him that him loving me is all the reason I need for me to love him in return? How can that possibly be construed as a bad thing and why do I constantly have to explain that to him?
Why can’t that be enough?