coexistapart's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- it's basically become the Coach version of a Birkin Good morning cruel world. Of course I don't mean that, but I'm a little irritated this morning, and of course that is not how one desires to start off an entry. So this weekend Big was driving me a little bit crazy. Not stir crazy, and not even that far down the spectrum of annoying things an individual can do, but enough that by Sunday afternoon I was looking forward to Monday that he could go back to work. Sometimes we have an especially hard time making our interests (albeit mutual) mesh together well. Thursday we a had a minor disagreement about an old issue that really only escalated because he was tired and this was keeping him from going to bed (at 10am). I woke up Friday and forgot about it, while he stewed all day and came home all jacked up. I was impatient because to me it didn't make sense to deal with this issue then and there (the red stuff in the kitchen, which he bought last December; after he told me the kitchen would be entirely my domain and purview; it's a LOT of candy apple red) because a) it's been so long, almost a year; and b) it's a Friday night; why waste the weekend? But he was insistent on not letting anything go unless he could "do" what he THOUGHT needed to be done. This decision came through hours of serious contemplation, read: him just sitting around and being pouty and then deciding what to do about it. I, of course, am equally stubborn and not a push over so that never bodes well. Anyway. So we had this large argument on Friday, which thankfully did NOT set the tone for the weekend--at least not beyond the capacity of me doing my best not to unecessarily aggravate him about things that don't matter. However on some things I didn't feel like we could dialogue either. Saturday we had a productive moring and went to the Farmers' Market; we usually go to eat at Pepper's afterwards. However, Big wanted to be geographically inefficient by driving back towards the house to go to Sam's Club (um, hello, Saturday crowds?), buy grocery items, return them to the house, and then go to Mesilla--where Pepper's was closed for a wedding reception. I didn't really care that Pepper's was closed. Yes, it was dumb that they didn't place a placard out in the front courtyard, and frankly I don't think it's worth enough money for them to close to the public on a Saturday afternoon, but they still had a limited number of tables available; the wait was just too long because, again, it's Mesilla, on a Saturday. So we go to Great American Land & Cattle Co. instead, which works out because I have a truly stellar steak. It's 12oz, and I can barely finish it, but Saturday lunch is success in my mind. Except I'm somewhat confused as to where the day is going: I thought we were going to El Paso just to go to Costco, then I'd go ice skating, and we had back home around 4pm at the latest. Big's sinuses are acting up, Saturday in El Paso is CRAZY with all the cars from Juarez (Mexico), plus it's the weekend: I know he hates being out of the house longer than strictly necessary, which is totally fine given that at this point we've been out 5 hours. I ask to go to the Target on the West side of town because it's nicer and I've cleared out the Targets in Las Cruces of a particular storage basket that I need. From there Big (of course) wants to go to Barnes & Noble. I defer in an attempt to be more flexible/accomodating, as a member of a couple. He's browsing and gets upset that I don't look like I'm finding anything after I've done a 20 minute look at magazines and bestsellers; I'm confused because--to me--going to Barnes & Noble in the middle of the day, again on a Saturday, and not for a couple of hours in the evening, you go in for one item, you look around at a few more, but with so many other errands going on, you keep moving forward..... Big spends $50 on books, which upsets me because I haven't seen him crack open a novel in weeks and there has got to be 250+ in the house already. Then Big wants to go to Dillard's, because I make mention of the fact that Dillards.com still has the Coach Bleecker tote. The store itself normally has a small Coach purse counter; maybe it has some remainders--the Fall collection started about 10 days ago. I agree to zip in, but then see it's basically three women named Laquisha leaning on the counters and manning a booth with just the namesake print. I can see a mile away that it's a franchise, so they have some super old stuff, some super new stuff, but that really they don't get anything very du moment or trendy because it's Dillard's: it wouldn't sell, and the real Coach shoppers would get it elsewhere. Big is all wanting to ask them if they have it, try to make good on this purse mess, but I'm just fed up. I don't even really know how to describe this purse situation, which--of late--has been undermining my mentality the way being his girlfriend while he was still married plagued my conscience. It all started in early July. I walked home from a late night out (in Toronto) along Bloor W, the luxury shopping stretch that borders Yorkville. Gucci, Prada, Christofle, Tiffany, you get the idea. I see this GORGEOUS purple lacquered tote in the Coach window. I love Coach and designer goods as much as the next person, but if you've read this blog long enough you know that I don't juse buy anything designer, least of which is the "most obvious" popular items. (Unless it's really on sale and practical for my uses.) I'm not exactly Rachel Zoe, but I like classic and conservative ventional almost to the point of fault with just a little bit of J.Crew retro flair, or if the item is hip then at least 25% timeless. So I see this gorgeous, lacquered purple purse. It's perfect; I love bold statement colours, plus purple is really big for fall. It's huge (big enough for a laptop) and over the shoulder. It's $495, but I'm sold; it will last me at least a year. My current beige everyday tote is filthy, and it's washable! At least now I know how to better take care of my day-to-day bag. So I want this bag. I put it off a couple of paydays; it's new issue, so I stay on track of how long the collection will be available. We come to early August, right before the Wedding Shower saga exploded, and it comes out from Big that he's been stressing about what to get me for my graduation present. We go through this whole thing where I tell him I'm not expecting anything from anyone; my college experience at YUS has been so horrible. Yes most of my friends got taken out for dinner and given nice gifts, hey even my aunt got me earrings, but Big got the day mixed up with the flowers, and of course my mother didn't send anything at all, so I'm already feeling poor little unloved rich girl anyway. The whole ceremony was pretty meaningless. That doesn't mean, however, that I haven't got it in my mind to buy MYSELF something to commemorate the event; I'm just undecided between the purple Bleecker, the new Tiffany Notes pendant (a paper thin disk with cursive writing, on a simple chain: here Frankly I'm not expecting a gift, I like all three of these options, and the bottom line is let's be honest: I will buy them all for myself eventually. But Big is all "no, this is pefect, I had no ideas whatsoever and now I can choose between the two" (I didn't tell him about the Tiffany Notes because there were too many options--leather cord, gold, ring--and he'd get confused). "Payday is Friday, I'm going to order something then." I say "OK, but if you don't order the purse can you please PLEASE let me know by the end of the month so I can order it before it's discontinued; this is a MUST." "Sure, no problem." Of course payday comes and goes, he doesn't mention anything, and of course why would he? It's a GIFT. Fast forward to when I see Big in Maryland after he's driven overnight to pick me up in Toronto. He tells me he forgot about "it." It's not clear to me if "it" refers to any gift at all, or simply the purse, or that I sent him an email with the product links, like he asked. I say ok, no problem. And it isn't, because the purse is still available, though in my mind WTF? Why make a big show about me graduating college, about you doing the right thing and getting me a gift when even my mother isn't, telling me that this is the NORMAL American thing to do (get substantial gifts for graduating, let alone with honors.) The words are just empty. I don't tell him all of this, but I'm just like "ok, whatever," in my head thinking that it will probably come down to us getting back to Las Cruces and him handing over his credit card # for ME to order MY gift for MYSELF. Except then he tells me that he got me Wedgewood. Instead. That makes it alright, right? HUH? Big's mother has a brother who lives in a huge, old colonial house where the bottom floor is a high end antiques shop. I browsed the store with Big's brother while we were waiting to take his mother (who was staying upstairs with her brother) to crab dinner. Because I was trying to make conversation with Big's slacker brother, who I had never actually met before this very moment, I pointed out some items in the store that I could comment on; nice things that I would buy if I was in the neighbourhood for some antiques. What I didn't know--and which of course makes sense in the scheme of Big's money-spending family, but hey I DIDN'T KNOW--is that if you indicate you like something, Big or his mother or the uncle will have it wrapped up and put into the trunk of your car before the end of your visit. So yes. I had indiscriminately pointed to a classic, pale green Wedgewood creamer & sugar pot that I liked; I grew up in a family with my grandmother's old china tea cup collection. I'm sentimental even before I see the value and quality of Old World items like that. But at no point did I ever envision owning, using, or exhibiting said items in Big's Saudi-styled house. I mean I can't even lie and pretend that it EVER crossed my mind that liking that object would cause me to own it. There are so many other things (selfish, I know) in life that I want now BEFORE collectible bone china. So Big had his uncle wrap it up. Consequently--and I'm not supposed to know this--his mom bought the rest of the set to give me for Christmas; it was a nice gesture, and I thought a nice sentiment of going to Maryland and meeting them, fine. But it's not what I asked for my graduation gift, it's not indicative of graduating college. Is this 1954 and now that I've finished at Smith I can get pregnant and offer out tea in the parlour with my Wedgewood? I love the Wedgewood, and I don't want to be ungrateful or get to the point where I see it on the table and it's cursed (it's not), but please don't tell me this my graduation gift! So Big senses I'm disappointed. I'm more disappointed because I've had such bad experiences with gifts both growing up and with him that I am constantly looking forward, hoping we can come to a place where we understand each other. I don't buy volumes of THINGS for Christmas. I used to get higlighters and socks; I had one Polly Pocket and one Barbie growing up. My mother was old fashioned and didn't believe in new fangled toys, the same way she didn't believe in new fangled commodity foods. Fine. When I met Big he showered we with STUFF from afar: t-shirts, books, movies, letters, flowers, everything. It was such an influx that my knee-jerk reaction was to hate everything because it was just so much stuff, at least several thousand dollars per year. None of it was "my style" until we started getting together four years ago and I would let him buy me clothes. I still let him buy me things; I love going to a J. Crew or Ralph Lauren outlet and only spending $400 but getting enough clothes to wear for four months. Whatever. That's become our thing. Christmas last year was a moderate success. It could have been worse; I picked out almost everything I received, which was kind of lame, but at least he got me things that he knew I liked and I HOPED that this would be an exercise where he would learn my lifestyle for himself. We did the same thing for my birthday, and it was a success. Now we come to graduation, an event that is not on my radar as gift giving, and he wants help, and then doesn't take it or follow through with it particularly want I want the item regardless of whether or not he can afford it. So I didn't get the purse. For about three weeks Big kept saying "but I got you Wedgewood, but I got you Wedgewood!" as if that was the plan all along and I was hurt that he just bought something last minute to cover his blunder. At this point I was in deep with the Bridal Shower saga, so although the purse was still availabe until about 2 weeks ago, I had no credit left and no immediate cash having finished work. (Not touching the market with a ten-foot pole.) At this point I didn't want to talk about it anymore, Big had made it clear that he had bought me a gift so it didn't matter, but then about three weeks ago he kept saying "I want to buy it for you, is it still available?" and I would go and check every couple of days that he would ask, and it would be, even though at this point the IDEA of this gorgeous purple purse was largely ruined. NOTHING LIKE FORCING SOMEONE ELSE TOBUY YOU SOMETHING YOU REALLY WANTED. Then last week his I-want-to-buy-it-for-you tune reached a crescendo because he was getting some cash from insurance refunds. This became a two-pronged issue: this purse has already dragged out for two months, so I'm exhausted just thinking about it and b)I want you to get out of the last litte bit of credit card debt, not spend $500 on a purse that you could have afforded two months ago if you hadn't spend 75,000 points on your mom contrary to what we discussed. Now the purse is no longer available of course, unless I root around at the outlet. Big was all "aw, I'm sorry, I know I screwed up" but without the commitment of someone who really understands what the issue is. It's not about the purse anymore. It's about you saying one thing, pretending to be this high-falutin' individual who has such a high code of ethics, and then-oh wait--am I the only one who sees that you're slipping? That kind of behaviour is related to why I'm annoyed this morning. I mean obviously this stuff from the last 5 days has built up (and still, when I say irritated, it's a low 2/10) but then yesterday Big was farting and burping and doing all kinds of disgusting men-type things. I was just not impressed. He gets mad at me ALL THE TIME for pretending to be one way, and then acting as I am. And yet he is the one who irons his pants, styles his hair to the point of being late for work, tells me he likes his house to be immaculate, and yet leaves dishes in the sink FULL OF WATER (pet peeve, also=gross), mounds of personal possessions everywhere, and then this?? Again, WTF? Last night he was acting all pissy because I asked him to turn out the lights in the bedroom after he finished watching his movie; I was reading a magazine, while waiting for him to be done in the living room. He came in and shut off the light closest to him, but not the one at the back of the room on my side. He gets into bed and then refuses to turn the light out. Finally he does, but then stomps off to sleep on the couch. This morning I wake up at 6:45am to all THREE of his wakeup alarms. I let them go off for 5 minutes, then move them out to the couch. He continues to sleep for 20 more minutes, amidst this veritable caucophony of HEY, IT'S TIME TO GET UP. I get annoyed, I certainly can't sleep, and finally go and poke and ask if he's getting up? The phone rings at 7:40am and Spoon is outside, waiting for Big. Big is out of the shower, shaved, doing his hair--essentially ALMOST READY--and Big is like no, yeah, you go ahead I'll make K. drive me to El Paso. Spoon would easily wait 5-10 minutes; Big is his direct boss and the whole point of carpooling is to save gas; they both drove yesterday, so why make the same error again today? If Big thinks it's ok to be late, I'm sure Spoon doesn't care! I'm mostly awake at this point (see earlier part about all the alarms) but I am not ready, nor am I willing to drive 2 hours to El Paso. I won't get back until 10am, and then I'd have to turn around at 3 or 4pm to go pick him up from work. Fine, just take the car when I had so many things planned for today. 8:15 a.m. - 2008-09-30 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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