I’ve never been a huge card giver. I’m more like a dude when it comes to giving cards. I would rather take you out for happy hour, or write a quick thank you on a post-it note.
That’s why when I went through a spell of getting cards from guys, it boggled my mind.
I had met a guy who was very sweet, but it was never going to turn into a long term relationship. We dated for a very brief time, and one night he told me out of the blue that he couldn’t give me what I wanted, and he left my place. It was midnight on a Monday night, and what I had wanted was for him to leave, so he actually did give me what I had wanted. As soon as I heard the door close behind him, I leapt up, locked the front door, and made sure that all of my windows were locked. Note: I don’t think that it’s a good sign when you double check that your windows are locked after a guy that you’re dating leaves because you’re scared that he will peak inside or try to crawl through it. But I could be wrong. This isn’t a relationship advice column after all.
I figured that was the end of it, and went to sleep. Weeks went by, and then one night I decided to watch The Conjuring. I had heard that it was scary so I watched it at 8pm with all of my lights on. All of a sudden I heard a knock at the door. I obviously assumed that a demon was at my door, so I ignored it. About ten minutes later I peaked outside, and found a bottle of wine…and my first card. It was from the guy who couldn’t give me what I needed yet did give me what I needed, and he had driven down from his home in LA (about an hour north of Long Beach where I lived), to drop off wine and a card, unannounced. It’s not like I was dating anyone else seriously, but what if I had a guy over? I was upset. And what made it worse was that he had gotten me White Zinfadel. I’m a Chardonnay girl…did he not know me at all? I could take that he wore loafers without socks, and even that he yelled “yay!” when he came. But White Zin was pushing it.
The card was nice, and he wished me luck on our pod cast (The White Wine True Crime pod cast has been in the works for awhile). The sentiment was sweet and sincere, and I made a mental note to forgive him as I regifted the wine.
As the weeks went on, every so often I would open my front door in the morning to find a bottle of wine and a card on my door step. It was like Christmas, or being part of a wine club that I had never enrolled in. The cards were sweet, and sometimes he would leave a single rose on my doorstep too.
One night I had a comedy show up in Burbank. As I was standing at the bar, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was him. We made small talk, and then I saw him leave the club. About fifteen minutes later he reappeared, and tossed a card my way.
“Read it later,” he said.
Naturally I went into the bathroom and opened the card right up. Rose petals fell all over the floor. I scrambled to pick them up and read the card at the same time.
The contents of the card started off sweetly. And then came the emotional donkey punch (see below). I pictured him standing in the corner liquor store, mashing up a rose into the card, and thinking “this will get her back” as he went on to write what he wanted to do to my body, which I don’t even think the ending is physically possible.
Later that night, he sent me a picture of his bed lit up by candlelight with rose petals strewn across his comforter. I never went over. I imagined him dejectedly sighing as he swept the rose petals into a nearby trash can and blew out the candles.
Months went by, and I hadn’t heard from him. It was summertime, and now my birthday. I came home from work…and saw a card and a bottle of wine on my front porch. My heart started pounding, and I started sweating profusely. Is this how Brad Pitt felt as he approached the box with Gwyneth Paltrow’s head inside in the movie Seven?
I opened the card…and it was from my new neighbor. I didn’t know him very well. We had exchanged a few flirty texts, but after he told me that he really liked tea, and had taken a one-year class studying teas, I quickly lost interest. In the last text that he sent, he asked if I wanted to hang out. I said no because I had been out drinking the night before, and all I wanted to do was curl up with a bowl of chicken nachos. He wrote back “I’ve got cookies,” which might lure a pack of 8-year olds into your cargo van, but was not going to work on me…unless they’re chocolate chip. But I digress.
I mean, what are the chances that two different guys would both leave cards and wine on my door step? It’s like a comet that comes by once every 82 years…or just one very weird 2014.