Recently, my friend – let’s call her Sharon – and I were discussing what birthday present to buy an acquaintance, when there was a disagreement over gift-giving etiquette. The issue? Who the second ticket is for, when you give someone two tickets as a present.
For years, I thought it was a given that the “plus one” was the present-buyer. Thus: “Not only do I want to treat you, but I want to spend time with you.” And as messages go, you can’t do better than that. Everyone knows that giving your time is the most thoughtful of gestures. It’s why homemade things are more treasured than bought ones, and why I continue to serve the Christmas present Sharon gave me last year (homemade pickles to make you drool, mainly because they’re so hideously sour you lose control of your face) every time she visits.
“What if they don’t want to spend time with you,” she quipped. “What if, actually, they’d prefer to take their partner, or kid? If you just assume the tickets are for you, you basically bought them for yourself. It’s a selfish gift.”
Way to ruin the age-old pleasure of gift-giving, Sharon! Is this what responsible, conscientious adulthood is? Just one long, drawn-out process whereby everything you think is nice is systematically ruined? When I was younger, life’s revelations were freeing: finding out, for example, that boys did not have germs and were quite fun to squeeze – that was something joyful. Now I am an adult, all my life plot twists are downers rather than uppers.
I wonder, sometimes, if there is anything left I love that adulthood can’t ruin. Tango Apple, that’s over (the sugar); my car (environmental damage); my cat (because owning an animal like property is a bit icky, although it’s probably OK because I am its slave).
Besides, most gifts are a bit selfish, and that’s fine. Take Sharon’s nuclear gherkins: OK, she wanted to show off her pickling skills, but that doesn’t make killing off my taste buds any more thoughtful.
So if it’s selfish to look forward to the face of a loved one lighting up a room, sue me. And if it happens to coincide with the jaw of my one show-off friend dropping to the floor as they are outdone, so be it. No one is ruining this great joy – petty, competitive altruism – for me. After all, what else is a proper adult other than someone who stands up for what they truly believe in?
