I know the Christmas season is over, and all, but humor me here for a minute: What is the lamest Christmas present you can think of? Socks? A gift certificate for a store you never go to? A piece of paper stating ownership rights to your very own star? How about nothing at all?
"So, I know I sort of implied I had a Christmas present for you," he said as we sat in front of the fireplace, ("Not implied, stated," I responded), "but as it turns out...I couldn't find anything. I mean, I don't know what you like."
Isn't that lame, Internet? Don't you wish you could tell him how lame that is, and how in the future he should probably tell a girl before she slaves for hours over a hot stove making him delicious fudge? (Because, while in the grand scheme of things we may not know each other that well, figuring out what someone might like is not always a feat of rocket science.) Well as it turns out, you can tell him, Internet; you can tell him all this and more, because, hello, he is already here. In fact, he is probably reading these words at this very moment. Aren't you? Pete?
I tell you, there is nothing worse than confessing your deepest, darkest secrets to a guy, only to have him respond, "I know. I already read all about it." I am still not sure whether it was intended more in the spirit of confession or frustration on his part (as in, Good lord, woman, stop repeating yourself.)
It's not that I haven't been found out before, because I have, several times. (See Internet date #1, Internet date #2, and friendly French hotel owner.) My saving grace in those cases was that I had never actually written about the guy, whereas here, of course, I decided to wax poetic with a string of ego-swelling adjectives. (So much for playing it cool.) I think the moral of the story is that I should never get involved with any nefarious characters, because I wouldn't last a week in witness protection. I leave a bread crumb-ier trail than Hansel and Gretel.
So, anyone else out there I should know about? Ex-boyfriends, co-workers, family members, former elementary school teachers, Girl Scout leaders, "best friend" who made me cry in the fourth grade? Grandma? 'Tis the season to be honest, so if you're out there, it's time to 'fess up. Let's do it quick like a band-aid. For my sanity or lack thereof. Please?