A Birthday Gift, Part 1 Since I feel like a break from the political stuff, I'm going to change gears for bit and veer into the personal. It is a true story of peril, subterfuge, and just a hint of sex. In it, a man--me--struggles against both nature and his own inner Calvinist and emerges from the struggle with his dignity mostly intact.
Today is the first of three installments.
[Note: These entries were written beginning Feb 2. As these posts involve picking out a surprise birthday present for my wife, they are, for obvious reasons, not going to be up on the weblog after she receives the gift. Also, there is some risk in posting these, since the subject matter is somewhat personal and I don't know how my wife will feel about it. There will be no titillating details, however. This is a story about a quest to buy a gift, not a latter to Penthouse.]
About three years ago, I suddenly became much better at buying gifts for my wife. Any man who has learned the Zen of gift buying can tell you it is a wonderful thing. Christmas and birthdays are times of joy and not fear and dread. No more late-night, last minute trips to the mall on December 23, snatching the last, ugly crystal chotchkey off of a display. No more ill-fitting clothes, poorly chosen colors, and vaguely disappointed looks on Christmas morning.
With the certainty of a Puritan,I know that a few weeks before a major gift-event, and idea will just come to me. Sometimes it is a specific item, sometimes it is a category, and even then, just a few hours in a small number of stores will give me the exact item.
But, even after a man hits the "gift-zone", most gifts are just good-to-great gifts. Inspired gift ideas are still rare. A good gift is a surprise, something your wife probably would not have bought for herself, something she will enjoy using or take joy in seeing. But an inspired gift is something that not only does she love, but is also something that either didn't know that she wanted, or that she knows you would never buy. An inspired gift is as great a surprise as Ed McMahon showing up at your front door with a million dollar check, and you don't even remember buying a magazine.
A husband in the "gift-zone" knows that the set-up is an important as the gift. My gift-buying trips all have cover-stories and alibis, I plan them with all of the care of a CIA agent meeting a double-agent. I prefer to let my wife think that I either forgot to buy a gift, or that I procrastinated too long. In this, I am aided both by my personal failings (I am lazy and I procrastinate madly) and my wife's low expectations (I theorize that it can take up to a decade to undue the damage done by just a year or two of bad gifts).
It is February 1st; my wife's birthday is February 9th. I haven't even thought about buying a gift yet, because I have absolute faith that an idea will come. To question the process, to allow even a smidgeon of doubt, will interfere with the Tao of gifting.
I'm relaxing on the couch when the idea hits me:
Lingerie
Wow, this is a surprise, even to me. I'm not even certain that my skills are up to the challenge. I know that any women readers are rolling their eyes and groaning at my immaturity. Trust me. I'm not a 17 year old adolescent with visions of the Pet of the Month dancing in my head. I'm 35, I've been married for six years, I know my wife and I'm a smart guy. I can pull this off.
There are some factors that I have to keep in mind as I shop. The most important is that, my wife, not being shaped like a super-model, has the standard set of insecurities about her body, so the whole philosophy of "less is more" is out the window. Also, being Midwesterners, any weird attachments or kinky material is out of the question. This is going to be a strictly silk, cotton, and lace operation.
The first step is to find a store. Fortunately, I read the Salon article Thong or Bikini, Sir? published in December, so I have some basic knowledge. Victoria's Secret is out, and I don't see department stores as a real alternative.
A trip to the phone book, followed by a Google search tell me first that I have been spelling "lingerie" wrong all of these years. Why the Hell is there an "i" in there? It's not pronounced "lawnjureee" (or have I been pronouncing it wrong too?). Damn French.
Next, I learn that Toledo has no suitable lingerie stores. Not one. If I want to see lingerie modeled, I've got options. Since I'm interested in buying lingerie and not a prostitute, I'm out of luck. Google searches for Detroit and Ann Arbor yield only stores that scare me right down to the core of my being. I do find a place in Bryan, OH, a nice, quite town about 45 min. southwest of Toledo. The Night & Day Boutique. It looks nice and upscale, just what I was hoping for.
Tomorrow is Monday, the one day of the week that I don't have to pick Gabe up from the sitter's, and so the only day I can credibly vanish for two hours. So, tomorrow is the day.
[Continue onto Part 2]
6:34:51 PM 
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