The title of this blog post is a takeoff from one of my very early posts, Good Girls Get Gifts.
I presented the Surgeon with gifts to express my appreciation that he’d saved my ass from the landlord last month, basically. He gave me a lot of cash. Yeah, the motives are questionable, but he didn’t have to do it.
I am a polite individual–the type who sends Thank-You cards for dinner parties and holiday gifts. And I hate to shop, but I like to shop for gifts quite a lot. The handful of people who know me best will tell you that I am a good gift-giver. I select items only after much deliberation and consideration.
I bought the Surgeon three gifts: a practical gift, a romantic gift, and a secret gift.
This is the practical gift–heavy marble coasters purchased from the Evolution Store in SoHo. I thought they were appropriate because he is a physician:
This is the romantic gift–a whittled conch shell. It’s called the “heart” of the conch. It is pink and beautiful and slippery smooth. The Surgeon likes things from the ocean:
He was given a secret gift, too. I have to keep that one private.
When he came to see me again, he brought a gift for me. It was his own–first he strapped me with it, and then he bequeathed it to me. I’m having it re-sized to fit me now, so that I can wear it myself:
Ostrich skin is so supple and beautiful. It feels so soft –you’d have to handle it to understand. I can’t keep my hands off of it. The buckle is real silver, too. Heavy. I felt it. He bought it at a conference out West.
The Surgeon likes to wear the hides of unusual, strange creatures. Ostrich, alligator, snakeskin, eel, crocodile.
Perhaps that is why he still desires me.