Dorophobia, part 3

I suppose I neglected to mention in my post of a couple days ago that D did in fact buy Christmas presents for me. Hell, she bought them for the whole family -- me, Wife, and both boys.

This really put me into a panic. What could she have been thinking?? I mean, the gifts for the boys really looked pretty good. The ones for Wife and me may not have been quite so spot-on, but they weren't awful. But what was I supposed to do? Take them in on Christmas morning and announce, "Here are your presents from D!" Yeah, right ... good luck with that. I couldn't figure out the right approach here.

I also had some trouble understanding why she sent the gifts. It looked to me for all the world like she was trying to insinuate herself farther into my life, ... into the boys' lives ... one gift at a time. Did she -- already! -- see herself in the role of (unacknowledged and unofficial) stepmom to the boys? Was she trying to build some kind of independent relationship with them? And what did she truly expect Wife to say ... even if the gift was something she would otherwise have liked?

The whole package arrived at my office the Monday before Christmas, and for several days these questions haunted me. Nor could I come up with satisfying answers. In the end I packed the presents into my car's trunk, brought them home ... and left them there. I never unpacked them and never gave them out, because I just couldn't figure out how to. And on Boxing Day I wrote to D as follows:

Dearest D,

Your package arrived last Monday – I mean the 19th – and I should have written you then. But I am afraid I found myself in a bit of a quandry, and that made it difficult to know quite what to say.

I’m not sure that I can explain this in any way that makes any sense at all, but I’ll try ….

In the first place, I probably have to explain that the letter I sent on first receiving your note that a package was on its way – the letter where I said something like, “Oh goody, how exciting!” – was written more in a spirit of convention than out of irrepressible enthusiasm. I knew it was The Right Sort of Thing to write, so I did. But honestly I was more alarmed than excited. I am very skittish about getting gifts from anybody; and while once every so often a gift manages to hit the spot just perfectly, I would gladly give up even those perfect hits if I could avoid the anxiety that I feel about the topic all together. This means that I wish people would not buy me gifts. (Some day ask my parents about this and they will tell you I’ve been saying the same thing to them since adolescence or earlier. That they have cheerfully ignored my requests on the subject for forty years – much to my dismay – makes me despair of ever being able to explain to anyone how I feel on this point.) OK, it sounds churlish, and it is natural to ask if I mean that as a dogmatic, blanket prohibition or if it only applies some of the time. Well, I am shy and timid about making any general principle into a dogmatic, blanket prohibition, because I know that so often there are unforseen exceptions which crop up. But in general – yes, really and truly I wish I could be free of the whole economy of gifts, and free from all the social roles which form part of that economy. I wish that the ways I relate to others – particularly to those I love or care about – did not have to include the transaction of giving presents.

So I was already nervous even before your package arrived and before I read the e-mail which went with it. Nervous, but I figured I could soldier through. But somehow it had never occurred to me that you would be sending presents to the boys. And when I saw that you had, it absolutely stopped me. I could not begin to imagine what to say or do from there. It’s not that I thought they were badly chosen: at any rate the book you picked for Son 1 looked spot on, and I am willing to trust your remarks about the one for Son 2. But I could not imagine how I would bring them home. What would I say? How would I present them? In the first instance, most immediately, I worried that Wife might throw a fit and spoil the day, or that the boys might feel obligated to dismiss the books in order to make her feel comfortable. But as I thought about it longer, I saw another dimension. How would I feel if Wife brought the boys Christmas presents from Boyfriend 2, or from any of the men she is seeing now? Would I be nice about it? Well I might not make a scene, but I would be pretty unhappy … and I would think I had a right to be unhappy. So in that case, how could I deliver these presents from you?

I have summarized my train of thought in a short, serviceable paragraph immediately above, but the actual thought process was nothing like that tidy. It took days and it was unbelievably difficult. But in the end I decided not to give out any of the presents you sent, and I am pretty sure it was the right choice. I’m sorry. I will contact Amazon to find out how their return policy works. And I hope I can persuade you – cajole, beg, or implore you – not to buy me any more presents. Not for birthdays, not for Christmas, … just not. I know it sounds churlish, self-centered, ungrateful. I despair of ever being able to explain to anyone why I feel the way I do about this topic, because I think this is one point where I am alone in the world to feel the way I do. I fear you will feel hurt, and that is no part of my intention. But you have told me time and again that our relationship is not a conventional one; that because we already stand outside the limits of social convention, we are not bound by conventional expectations; that all we owe each other is the truth. It is that reassurance I rely on now. Please don’t be hurt.

All my love,
Hosea