Tonight my roommate is making dinner for my boyfriend. This is what she does, for birthdays. Which means that my roommate has a birthday gift for my boyfriend before I do.
Um. Uh oh.
In all fairness, he’s impossible. He has expensive tastes, like telescopes and soccer jerseys, which provides a dilemma when I don’t have an expensive budget.
My roommate has been suggesting various dirty gifts, none of which I’m taking seriously. It’s nice of her, though, to help.
I can always fall back on the do-something-creative-and-romantic-and-cheap sort of thing…but my creative juices are apparently on the low end as well. Bah humbug.
He’s insisting that he doesn’t want anything, he doesn’t like that I’m stressing about my lack of possible gifts for him, but really. Who totally doesn’t want a gift? Well. Knowing him, he really would be okay with not getting one. Problem is, I’m not okay with not giving one. It’s one of my favorite things, giving gifts. Just…more enjoyable when I really have something good to give. I was all over it for Christmas. Knew exactly what to get him and knew he’d love it. And he did. This time though…not a clue. And homework bogging me down and clogging my creativity is not helping.
Oh well, I’m getting over it now, and enjoying a lovely dinner. We’re having pork roast, with pecan pie for dessert. Beforehand there will be soccer, and after, just for me, there will be Grey’s. Seriously, I’ve got a guy who will willing watch Grey’s Anatomy with me and I can’t think of a good birthday gift?
…okay, so maybe I’m not getting over it just yet…