The Pink Issue

So I get a text this afternoon -- in medias res -- out of nowhere, that says: "Now I remember why I never go shopping. Not only was the traffic horrible, but I waited nearly an hour to get a knowledgeable sales clerk, and then I left because they never got free of other customers. I'm going to buy this thing online. The biggest problem will probably be the ‘pink’ issue. If you had to choose between higher quality and ‘pink,' which would you choose?"

My response was "who is this?"
Which was met with. "Ha. Ha."

Of course I knew who it was, because there are not that many men who A. are allowed to buy me electronics, and  B. complain about what an ordeal it was just so I'll know how hard they worked at it. It is my own fault, because that is somehow one of the take-aways he got out of all of his "thought that counts" training (as documented over many, many years). He was married for a decade before he ever met me, so he had already learned, in that Divorce, "to be generous to the point of night sweats," (War of the Roses was one of our first DVD nights). That was never his problem; it was the little thoughtful gestures he learned from me. And to this day, if given a choice, he'll err on the side of extravagance every time. Sigh. He means well.

I never have written about him much because -- like the fact that my size 2s are now falling off me -- a lot of our issues were what's known as  "high-class problems," -- i.e., the kind nobody has much sympathy for, and for good reason. Happy Relationships can be pretty dull (at least when it comes to material... "he's soooo dreamy" -- who wants to read that?) But he's not my boyfriend anymore, and even when he was, my point then was, that I preferred being Loved to being Bought. And then I'd be forced to clarify, hell, I didn't really want to be loved so much as I wanted... a regular supply of doughnuts; a spirited game of Ring-Toss twice a day (once was always plenty for him, and it was an admitted problem....ok, ok, also a high class problem); and then to be left alone. 

So of course my answer today was: "PINK!" I don't care how high-end this particular gadget is, how much or how little it costs, or even what it is... These 99 cent garden gloves? The highlight of my weekend. And I mean that with all sincerity.

[ Nowwwwwwww, these roses would of course meet any and every girl's criteria -- they're pink; they represent the very essence of thoughtfulness; they happen to be extravagant; they were very hard to come by; and they came BOXED so that a control freak like me could do my own arranging and thus "let the architecture of the flowers speak for themselves." They were sent to the office -- as appropriate -- and THEN hand-delivered to my house when I wasn't at the office... I think it goes without saying they were a present from the Food Gays. Those two strike fear into the hearts of Straights everywhere. As. They. Should. They ain't been married 27 years for nothin.]