Tag Archives: boyfriends

Men are hard to shop for: Part II

2 Jan

As I’m sure you’ve been waiting with bated breath, the time has come to reveal my Christmas present to Peter (see Men are hard to shop for: Part I). I got him a 1941 Waltham military watch. Here’s a pic:

I ordered it on eBay, and when I first got it in the mail, I was worried because the face was smaller than I had imagined and I thought it looked too feminine. It also had this terrible tacky expandable metal band (which wasn’t original to the watch). So I asked my dad what he thought.

“It’s nice. Really nice,” my dad said. “But you have to get rid of that band. It looks too femmy. It looks awful.”

So I bought a new brown leather watch band and it did look MUCH better. It turns out that the band was a little too small for Pete’s monstrous wrists, but it’s only $20, so I can get him a new one, no biggie.

Here’s what Pete has to say about the watch:

“I like my watch for four reasons: 1. It’s pragmatic. 2. It’s something I would never buy for myself, but something I wanted. 3. It’s unique. 4. It’s something I can use everyday.”

“And don’t forget number five!” my mom added. “It was gifted with LOVE!”

“Yes,” Pete said. “That’s right. I like my watch for five reasons.”

I, on the other hand, got some super duper awesome Christmas/Hanukkah presents. I don’t want to name them all because they are so awesome you would probably want to rob me or something, but I did get a really cool giant picture frame that I want to hang above my bed but I’m afraid it will fall on me while I’m sleeping and kill me. I also got a baby orangutan named Luna (This is my second venture in international primate adoption. I named my first orangutan Bono.)

And that was just Christmas. I can’t wait to tell you about New Years.

 

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Men are hard to shop for

20 Dec

I want Pete to be this excited about his Christmas gift

I am eternally stumped when it comes to buying presents for the men in my life.

I gave up on my father a long time ago. He’s read every historical novel on the planet, already owns a pair of pajama pants and has a love/hate relationship with Chicago sports. The only gift he’s ever liked from me have been mix CDs so I’ve just been doing that for every Christmas and birthday for the past few years (I do make a mean mix CD).

But Pete, my boyfriend, is a whole different ball game (See Worst girlfriend ever). Over the past year, his gifts have become more thoughtful and I look like an idiot as I continue to present him with stupid and sub-par gifts. Thus far, I’ve received Hunter boots (last Christmas), tickets to the Mariah Carey concert (Valentine’s Day), a mix CD (he beat me at my own game), an apron, flowers at work, flowers at home, a pillow with my dogs embroidered on it (I know, he’s THAT good) and a Netflix subscription.

I’ve given him male grooming products, tickets to the symphony (I fell asleep), a framed picture of the two of us (he says it’s a terrible picture of him), sunglasses and a North Face vest (both of which he picked out).

A few days after Thanksgiving, when Pete and I were driving to meet my family for brunch, he turned to me and said, “Can I tell you what I got you for Christmas?”

“Pete, it’s the day after Thanksgiving.”

“I know but I really want to tell you. I like, REALLY want to tell you. Like REALLY.”

And so I put on a little act and pretended like I didn’t want to hear and that lasted for about two minutes.

He got me…. *drumroll please*… a trip to Ireland.

WOW.

WOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW.

OMG WWWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWO.

—————————

Suddenly the pair of gloves I was planning on buying him for Christmas seemed pretty lame.

I’ve been scouring the Internet for gift ideas for the past few weeks, hoping and praying that I will not have to resort to gloves from Kohl’s.

“Eva, you don’t have to get me anything,” Pete said after the fourth time I asked him if he was in the market for an iPad docking station made from a recycled wood log.  “I know you don’t have the money and there’s nothing that I really want.”

Well what about a vintage map of Ireland? Or a pair of cufflinks with mini gavels on them? Or a Marc Jacobs iPad case? Or tickets to the symphony again (and I promise I’ll stay awake this time)?

And my mother is of no help. Last year she suggested I buy him one of those souvenir mugs in the shape of a boob and you can drink the coffee out of the nipple.

“Seriously mom?” I said.

“Well, I think it’s pretty darn funny, Eva,” was her reply.

There is certainly a lot of crap in this world but picking the one thing that I hope will make Pete go crazy is very difficult. (I only achieved the level of craziness I’m hoping for one time – it was after the symphony when I bought him ice cream. It was too much sugar for him and he was up until 2 a.m. singing Prince songs and doing weird jazzercise moves. I want him to be THAT excited about a gift from me.)

But – ladies and gentleman – I have something in mind. I ordered it over the weekend and it should be making its way to my apartment right this very minute. I can’t spoil the surprise until next week but I really, really hope it’s Prince-pumping-jazzercise-moves-worthy.

I’ll keep you updated.

P.S. This is Pete after too much ice cream:

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for Sega

29 Nov

If you know Pete, the following statement will come as no surprise to you: My boyfriend is obsessed with electronics.

He has an iPhone, iPad, MacBook Pro, iPod, PS3, Xbox, Wii, and funky cables to connect them all. I’m pretty sure he’s trying to recreate the perfect storm that brought Kelly LeBrock to life in Weird Science, but it’s hard to be sure.

So over the long Thanksgiving weekend, Pete and I decided to settle in and spend an afternoon on the couch watching movies. While I was walking to the kitchen, Pete asked me to please put the Army of Darkness DVD in his Play Station.

“Ok, but you can’t yell at me like you did last time,” I said. “No yelling ok?”

This is a transcription of the conversation that followed:

Eva reaches towards the Play Station.

Pete: “Take out the video game that’s in there… NO NO NO!! Turn on the PS3, you have to turn it on first!”

Eva turns on the Play Station and safely removes the video game from the system.

Pete: “Ok now put in the new DVD in… SHINY SIDE UP SHINY SIDE UP!!!!”

I have no idea what he’s talking about until I look at my right hand. I was about to put the video game down on the table “shiny side down”. I know, it’s pretty much as bad as putting a baby in the microwave, right?

Eva: “Pete, you said you wouldn’t yell.”

Pete: “I’m sorry, Eva. It’s just that if the video game gets scratched, it won’t work.” [Takes deep breath.] “Can you please hand me the controller?… UNPLUG IT UNPLUG IT FIRST!!!… OTHER END OTHER END NO YELLING!!!”

Pete looks like he is about to go into cardiac arrest. Eva looks like she is pissed because this is exactly what happened last time.

Eva: “Did you actually just yell ‘no yelling’?”

Pete just looked at me sheepishly and apologized. Meanwhile, I mentally noted to never touch any of Pete’s electronics ever again, for fear of death.

I still can’t believe that he yelled, “No yelling”. While he was trying his best to keep his calm, the words that were going through his mind actually came out of his mouth. Thank God that’s never happened to me before.

Do other women feel that video games turn loving, interesting men into senseless, boring puddles of mush?

But more importantly: Am I the only one that gets motion sickness from video games? I feel like that’s the universe’s way of telling me to get off the couch and go for a walk. But maybe that’s just me?