I am blessed to have a number close women friends. Any one of them can make me feel great about my new haircut, laugh their butts off with me over the stupidest little thing, let me rant about my job/parents/kids/house/you name it, and offer wise advice if I want it or simply listen if I don’t. I trust them with my secrets, and I count on these friends when times are tough. You know who you are, and I love you.
But I don’t want to buy you presents even though you deserve them—loads of them.
Why? Gift-giving anxiety. Go ahead—roll your eyes. It’s stupid, I know.
It starts off innocently enough. I see cute a little tchotchke—maybe it’s a 4-inch tall robot that makes me smile and I think, that would make (name of close friend goes here) laugh. So I buy it to give at Christmas or your birthday. Sometimes I covet a lovely item—maybe a small oval box covered in marbled Florentine paper, but I stop myself because I already have a number of pretty little boxes. But one of my besties would love this too, so I buy it. And that’s how the gift exchange among girlfriends begins.
At first, it’s fun. I’ve received many wonderful, inspired gifts. I love them because you thought to give them and because I enjoy the things themselves. I’ve tried to return the favor. Over the years, I’ve given scented candles, deluxe lotions and soaps, cool earrings, whimsical artwork, Christmas ornaments, good books, pretty scarves, food treats—whatever little luxury I think you’ll enjoy.
But after several years of gift exchanges, I’ve exhausted my good ideas for small treasures. Gift-giving anxiety creeps in. Didn’t I buy you earrings last time? How many scented candles does a person need? Will this red scarf go with any of your clothes? I want to do something nice for you, but what? Soon I am haunting gift shops and boutiques in search of the perfect cool thing for you. And then the missteps begin. I get a book you’ve already read. Coffee hurts your stomach, so that special coffee and mug—well, maybe you can give it to somebody else.
If you didn’t matter so much to me, this wouldn’t be so hard.
Eventually, we are both struggling. Finally, one of us says let’s call off the gift exchange. We are both relieved.
We agree to go out instead and do what we love most: talk, laugh, advise, comfort. That’s the best gift—time with you.