No Gifts Please.

She specifically said, “NO GIFTS PLEASE.”  Actually, she was adamant about no gifts. I know this because SHE TOLD ME SO which is why I worded it that way in the group text I sent to a dozen and a half girls inviting them to a birthday dinner celebrating our friend.

Maybe no one knows what adamant means.  That must be it.  Maybe they thought adamant meant indecisive or unsure or “I want a gift but I’ll say I don’t want a gift because it’s the more polite way to say I hope you get me a gift.”

ADAMANT: ad-a-mant / adjective

Refusing to be persuaded or to change one’s mind.

ex: “She is adamant that no gifts be purchased for her birthday.”

Synonyms: unshakable, immovable, inflexible, unwavering, uncompromising, insistent.

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Guess what?  I listened to my friend.  I didn’t break the rules.  I took a hard pass on getting her a fucking gift.   She said she didn’t want one so I didn’t get her one.  Why would I get someone a gift for her birthday who doesn’t want a gift?  SHE SAID NO GIFTS!

When I do give a gift I happen to be the best goddamn gift giver there is.  Really.  I am.  I’m the girl who randomly gives gifts just because it’s a Tuesday or because it’s Labor Day or it’s Good Luck On Your New Job Day or my personal favorite reason for giving a gift which is: FOR NO REASON AT ALL!  I don’t need it to be your birthday, which I might add, wasn’t even a big, standout year.  It was forty-three.  I mean, did I miss the memo on forty-three being the new forty?  Forty-three isn’t the new forty-five is it?  ‘Cuz forty-five IS gift-worthy but forty-fucking-three doesn’t require a gift.  I’m sorry, it just doesn’t.  ESPECIALLY when the birthday girl herself says, “NO GIFTS PLEASE!”

That said, you can imagine how thrilled I was to hear that some of the girls were even contemplating getting our friend a gift.  Oh amazing.  That’s fucking great.  Now the rest of us will look like assholes when we show up for dinner empty handed.

 Hi, I’m here for the birthday dinner.  Yah, I’m the friend who didn’t bring a gift.  Should I sit with the girls who brought a gift, or should I sit in the non-giftgiving section?

Maybe I should wear a scarlet letter on my chest for not giving a gift.  That’s totally what I should have done.  A scarlet G for GIFT.  Or maybe it should be an N, for NO GIFT.  

Whatever.

I didn’t bring a gift, but I did bring my appetite.  I brought my big, unpolished appetite.  Um… it’s dinnertime folks.  I know you’re annoyed that it’s late for a weeknight but we mustn’t miss a meal.  I always feel so sorry for Harry The Server who gets stuck with a Farmer’s Table full of Sally’s.  “I’m not that hungry.  I’ll just have a salad, but put the lettuce on the side.  No dressing either.  And a water.  With lemon.  Or a cucumber.  Oh wait, Sir?  You did hear me say on the side right?”

I’m NOT having what she’s having!

“Fuck the salad.  I’m having the lasagna.  And bring me some of that flat bread too.  I’m starved.  Oh, and I’ll take another scotch.  Make it neat this time.  No ice.”

Girls get all nervous when dessert time rolls around.  This one wouldn’t dare eat dessert; that one either. HERE’S A NEWSFLASH LADIES:  It’s a birthday.  We’re having dessert.  We’re gonna order a shit load of desserts, throw in a candle, sing Happy Fucking Birthday and everyone’s gonna take a bite.  No one is going to die from a bite of cake.

There are no worries when the check finally arrives; just give it to the girl at the end of the table.  You know, the one who didn’t bring a gift?  Yah, give it to that one with the big mouth who’s still drinking scotch, and scarfing down what’s left of the four desserts that no one else would touch.  Give her the check, she’s good at math.

At this point it’s tough to keep track of how many of us are splitting the bill because half the table has either gotten up to go to the restroom or they’ve already taken off for the night.  I counted the number of seats and then re-counted the seats again subtracting the birthday girl from the equation.  The birthday girl doesn’t pay for her meal.  After all, that’s why we’re here in the first place.  We’re here to celebrate the birthday girl.  We’re all here (with or without a gift) to take her out for dinner and make her feel special.  We’re all here to be together spending the time laughing and eating and drinking and celebrating our dear friend.  Isn’t THAT gift enough?

JUST TO LET YOU KNOW… If the birthday girl was a birthday BOY, I think we can all agree this gift shit NEVER would have happened.  The male species doesn’t operate the same way women do and that’s something I happen to love about men.  No drama, no salads, no gifts; just ample desserts and plenty of scotch!  Now that sounds more like my kind of an unpolished birthday celebration! 

** As an aside, I would like to admit that my outspoken opinion on the matter of who ended up giving a gift and who didn’t while celebrating my friend’s birthday was not very classy.  It was not very lady-like.  NOT IN THE LEAST!  My ranting and raving was Grade A, classic SILVER UNPOLISHED.  I was pissed and I was annoyed and I wouldn’t let it go.  I behaved more like a three year old rather than a forty-three year old.  It was not one of my finer, more polished moments.  The truth is I still stand by my feelings on the sitch whole-heartedly but I do apologize if I got carried away with my unpolished delivery thereby crossing the line.  Maybe as a punishment I should have to buy everyone a gift!!!!!!!!

What do you think?