Dear Martha Stewart:
I believe the real terrorism is gift giving--the use of violence or threats to intimidate or coerce, esp. for political/social purposes.
It’s that social pressure or bullying to make us spend our hard earned money on frivolous holidays like Mothers Day or Valentine’s Day. Every year there seem to be a new holiday as I get older. It’s the panic of birthdays, housewarming parties, weddings or getting out of prison. It’s rushing the department stores hoping to find that gesture to proclaim or certify relationships. What if they don’t like it? What if it’s too expensive? What if what they got you last year sucked? And what do you get a person who just got out of prison, maybe a hooker. But what type of hooker? Should you spend a lot of money or not? Should you expect a "Thank you" card?
The real terrorism is the person receiving the gift. What if i don't like it? What if i don't want it?
Gift giving suggests some type of relationships. It assumes that we know each other intimately when we're just fucking. It’s an unspoken exchange of commitment. Like what if the creepy guy from work gives you an elaborate Valentines gift basket with edible underwear, handcuffs and a penis pump? How do you tell a person, thanks but no thanks for the penis pump? I don’t like when strangers give me gifts unless it’s Orpah. She gives away cars. Who wouldn’t accept a car from Oprah? Yet, if an acquaintance gave me a car, it would make me suspicious. After all, nothing in the world is free. It’s like if that person gave me a car in five years he or she may ask for a kidney or something. I’d want that person sent to Gautama Bay and interrogated. I went them tortured. I want information like do I have to send a Thank you card from something I didn’t ask for in the first place. It’s a car. Only Oprah can give away cars because it’s like farting for her.
Here’s my dilemma Martha Stewart. I feel as if I’m being harassed and I want to know the proper etiquette for casual acquaintances and gift giving. I have this friend. Well he's not really a friend more of a casual drug connection. It's not hardcore drugs but you know Martha Stewart how hard it is to keep a good drug connection in the city.
My friend but not really, we were walking from a party when I saw a homeless guy on the streets selling what I thought were computer speakers. I remember saying I needed new computer speakers. I was eventually going to make it to RadioShack but it wasn’t life or death. I usually used my headphones anyway. The guy, not really a friend, we’ve gotten high together a couple of times. I only knew him for a month or so, nothing serious. After the second time we met he told me he accidentally used me as an excuse. He said he told a trick I stole his stash of drugs because he didn’t want to share. I found that odd since we just met. He said he didn’t use my name-- that he just said the black guy did it as if that made it better. And then he smiled. Of course I had my reservations. I didn’t trust him. One time he stiffed me twenty bucks. But he did have good drugs. I figured I find something to like about him. The next week he called and left a message on the answer machine. He said he was out shopping and bought me a pair of computer speakers. I listened to the message and erased it. I felt a cold chill go down my spine. He called again like five times. His final message was “I guess people can’t do nice shit for your ungrateful ass.” It was rude.
I remember Gift giving was supposed to be a time of joy when I was a kid. It usually happened on birthdays or Christmas. My heart would fill with childish flutter as I urgently blew on my birthday candles because I knew the tearing of gift wrappings was next; or that Christmas eve, the inability to go to sleep because I be so excited to find out if I got that racing car set I asked for or a bike. Well, that was how I’d like to remember my childhood but Norman Rockwell never painted any portraits on the ghetto. I was an orphaned kid so my birthdays usually sucked. And don’t get me started on Christmas because who gives a kid soap, toothbrushes and toothpaste. I spent most of my childhood writing death threats to Santa Claus.
When I turned thirteen years old gifting giving seemed to stop. There were no more lies about Santa Claus forgetting the house. It was drunken grandma in her new fur. She always promised to make it up to me on my next birthday. That birthday never came. Or if it did, it was Grandma giving me a hundred dollar bill and demanding to know where I was going to hide it. The money always came up missing the next day. It stopped when I stopped telling her where I hid the money. The look on her face the next day was priceless. I would tell her somebody stole it like they always did. She’d call me a liar and beat me like a bully until I handed her the money. I guess the charades were over. I found out Santa Claus didn’t exist and Grandma was an alcoholic thief.
Gift giving changes when we become adults. It’s no longer friendly fire but carefully crafted assassination as in "no good gift goes unpunished." When I was kid it was basically birthdays and Christmas. As an adult, anyone can register at Target for whatever celebration. But gift giving has to have a certain motivation. I just don’t go out and buy underwear from my landlord because that would be weird. I don’t just show up to work in the middle of April and give my Boss expensive earrings because it might be construed as sexual harassment. Even with my lover, I can’t just buy flowers without arousing suspension of cheating. It’s a cruel world. I don't think it's weird of me to be suspicious of some guy who I’d gotten high with a couple of times suddenly out the blue buys me some expensive computer speakers. I mean, what the fuck?
I didn’t think it was cynical of me to question his intention. After all, he was a drug connection who once stiffed me on twenty bucks with the drug man. It’s not like he was a Boys Scout. It put me in an awkward position. I hadn’t thought about our relationship. I couldn’t imagine why when he was out shopping and suddenly thought of me. I didn’t want that type of relationship with him. I knew if I accepted the gift it unintentionally gave him some casual entrance into my life like calling me for bail money or some terrible inconvenience. I wasn’t ready for that type of commitment. And then there was the terrorism. I felt he attacked my privacy. I felt as if he was trying to bring down my protective wall with unsolicited kindness. I felt as if he was trying to change our relationship. I just wanted to get high. It put me in an awkward position. He thought when he left the message for the gift I’d be happy or grateful. I was more pissed. It’s because when someone buys you a gift that usually mean you have to get them something. Nothing in this world is free. I needed to buy time to figure out if I wanted to be his friend or whatever. I wasn’t romantically attracted to him. I just liked the drugs. I didn’t want to hang out with him like best friends. To be honest, I kind of found him annoying but after I'd get high, it didn't. It was good drugs.
The harassment didn’t stop. Every text message he mentioned those damn speakers like a bill collector. He questioned why I hadn’t come over to his place and picked them up. He often threatened to throw them in the trash like I was renting storage from him and I needed to come get my shit. It was annoying. I mean I didn’t ask for the speakers. I didn’t ask for the nice gesture. I didn’t ask for the terrorism. I guess that’s the point.
In the end, it was obvious there was intention behind the “nice gesture.” It was too important to him. Gift giving can sometimes be like proposing marriage, you have to be 90 percent sure the person is going to accept. Otherwise, it’s just embarrassing. It’s not that I didn’t want the gift but I needed to first let him reveal himself. I knew if I just stayed quiet he would tell me everything I needed to know. He told me in the crazy seven voice messages he left on my answer machine. He told me in the confrontational text messages. I figured by not accepting the gift I'd be dodging a bullet of soon to be crazy needy bastard of a friend. I imagined your answer. I know Martha Stewart I shouldn’t negotiate with terrorists. I decided in the end not to accept the speakers. I was wondering should I send a “No thank you” card. I wanted to do something nice that was watershed with “Fuck off you crazy bastard.”
Love and Kisses,
Lazy Cheap Bastard
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