All I really wanted for my 45th was a wallet, some sunglasses and a magazine subscription.
Recently, Meredith Carroll wrote an essay about her husband's below-average gift-giving skills. Her husband's cleverly crafted reply is below:
Turning 45 years old is a significant event in a man's life, right? Such a day might lend itself to a few — wink, wink — special gifts from the birthday boy's wife, right?
My hopes certainly weren't that high, as if I expected my wife to surprise me with the keys to a red convertible Mercedes, which I'd steer into the sunset on Saturday afternoon high-speed drives through the mountain roads and city highways, tooting gentle honks at pretty young girls and shunning any notions of a looming mid-life crisis.
No, all I really wanted for my 45th was a wallet, some sunglasses and a magazine subscription. Instead, I was the recipient of a teenage romance book that happened to bear my name in the title. Oh, how cute. Since my wife saw I "liked" it on Facebook, her brilliant gift-giving instincts led her to buy it on eBay for me.
OK, so it was borderline cute (but if I really want cute, buy me floppy-eared puppy next time). The next gift for my 45th, mind you, was certainly more daring: an iPhone cover that resembled an '80s-style jam box. OMG! Now I was the 40-something hipster straight outta Brooklyn.
Not to sound like a spoiled-rotten husband, but my wife is always the beaming gift-giver in these exchanges, as if her creative brilliance has made my day. Again.
Read the rest of his response over at Elizabeth Street: I May Stink When It Comes To Giving Gifts, But My Wife Is No Better
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