Validation in a Gas Grill

For the first time in over 15 years I went to see a Mardi Gras parade. Most my friends weren’t available, as usual, but Rachel*, my trusty partner in crime, rallied for a Thursday night outing. We cut down Dauphin St. to avoid the crazy Government Blvd. traffic and were amazed with the available parking on the street. Then, we stopped in at Hero’s for a bite to eat before walking down to Conception St. for the parade. It all timed out perfectly. I was amazed with the light crowd in the area. My last memory of Mardi Gras was one of being jostled, squished and stepped on by greedy little cretins diving after throws. I never was a mosh pit sort of gal, so this episode turned me off of Mardi Gras for years. The crowd was no more than two deep in most places where Rachel and I took our spots. I really just wanted to see the floats, so I caught a few beads, stuffed a few moonpies in my pockets, and I was happy. When it had all passed, we walked down Dauphin St. looking for a bar to hang out in.

Nope. Didn’t want to go in Haley’s. I hate Haley’s. Never really liked it, but I didn’t reveal to Rachel that my chief reason for hating it now is because the SoHB loves it. It’s one of his favorites. I bet his picture hangs on a wall somewhere in there.

After ducking into Red’s for a while, we walked several blocks to The Bicycle Shop. While it was packed with people, Rachel and I were content sitting by ourselves on a bench. The beer made us chatty, not that we needed any help. We talked about men, as usual. Perhaps inspired by my casualness in mentioning the SoHB, Rachel felt comfortable revealing a newly learned tidbit. She still works with the SoHB at my old company. A while back he approached her to ask about the Christmas gift from his girlfriend. She had given him a gas grill.

My jaw dropped, and I exclaimed, “What a sucker!” But Rachel had more to tell.

“That’s a pretty expensive gift, isn’t it?” he asked her.

He didn’t disclose what his gift to her was, but Rachel felt the phrasing of his question implied that it wasn’t nearly as nice. I declared to be certain that it wasn’t. He typically gives cheap gifts, even by conservative standards. He once gave me a book for my birthday … a used book. He’d bought it used. I burned that book about a month ago.

My mood after this conversation slipped into a funk. Her gift to him seemed extravagant, but it indicated a sense of security … a sense of comfort with him that was disturbing to acknowledge. I thought the news would haunt me all night, but I was surprised by how quickly I recovered. His girlfriend is in the stage I predicted, making a wasted effort to be good to him. Six months hasn’t been long enough for her to comprehend how hopeless he is. She still foolishly believes he could be her “happily ever after.”

It didn’t hurt that I also had a guy try to pick me up. That always lifts the spirits, no matter how disinterested I am.

Later that night, as I lay peacefully in my bed, a thought hit me with a jolt. Something about the gift had seemed out of place to me, but I attributed that feeling to its cost. It wasn’t until the whole episode had nearly left my mind that I recognized its true source. A gas grill was an inappropriate gift for the SoHB because of who he is. I know nothing of their relationship. Since every relationship develops at its own pace, it may not have been inappropriately costly for them. But there are things I know about the SoHB … things that do not change … certainly have not changed in six months.

He doesn’t cook.

Not at all.

He’s completely intimidated by it. I once gave him a cook book when he expressed an interest in learning a few basics … one of those cooking out of a can and speaking to you like you’re an idiot cookbooks. It was too much for him to handle. And he doesn’t entertain. The most entertaining he ever does is having a few buddies over to watch a television program or a DVD. He even acted a little resentful when Jeri* and her husband visited him weekly to watch a program they couldn’t get on satellite dish. He doesn’t cook. He doesn’t entertain. He has no desire to do either. What a freakin’ stupid gift! What a freakin’ stupid, EXPENSIVE gift!! After six months together, the girl doesn’t know him any better than to buy him THAT for Christmas? My hand flew over my mouth as I gasped in delight. I laughed to myself. I slept with a smile.

I felt like a new person the next day. I felt free. Everything I ever wanted to hear about their relationship was learned through that one simple gift. That gas grill represents how hard she’s working at being a good girlfriend. It represents her investment in him. It represents what she wants to be in his life … what I once wanted to be. It also represents how far she is missing the mark. I knew he hadn’t changed, wouldn’t change … doomed to repeat the failures of his past … doomed to drive her away. He is the same old SoHB, locked in his same old self-deceptions, trying to find his sense of worth in a relationship. She’s locked in a futile endeavor of being enough for him. I’ve been looking at this all wrong. I wasn’t rejected because I was inadequate, and I’m not still single because I am inferior. I’m looking for more than just security or validation in a partner. I’ve turned down several requests for my phone number, so I haven’t lacked attention. But I know what I want and what I deserve, and now that I’m free from him … free from his neglect, his lack of respect, his presumption, his taking me for granted … I’m free to find someone worthy of all the love and attention I poured into him. I’m free to be happy.

* = Names have been changed to protect those whom I like.