How To Boyfriend: The Gift Giving Edition

Every year in November, Doug reminds me how difficult I am to shop for. I'm a minimalist with reasonably good income and reasonably poor impulse control. This year, as he often does, he asked for hints. Hints I can do. List? No way. That turns the whole thing into a transactional obligation and banishes the magic.

Over the course of the last thirty days I've sent him these text messages at various times:

Thanks for the stemware, Baby. Gin-o'clock!

Red KitchenAid two slice toasters are so lovely. I'm quite distraught about mine being broken you know.

I feel so ratchet when I drink martinis out of ordinary glasses when I'm in Seattle. I just love the ones at The Olive and Grape with charming coloured glass stems.

Sometimes when I'm working on black fabric at night I wish I had a good task lamp for my table. I should ask for a recommendation the next time I'm in Fabricana.

To which my prince responded:

I see what you did there. 

And because he's the most awesome man ever known to me, he started following suit:

I find it annoying to do laundry so often since the laundromat in Inverness wrecked one of my two good pairs of jeans. I often get work clothes at Old Navy.

In learning a little Turkish I keep wishing I had a small dictionary that indicates long vowels and unusual word stress, because the standard orthography doesn't. I'd even get rid of a book or two to make room for it.

(Yes, he's learning Turkish now)

And I do so miss Babylon 5 and wonder if it ever came out on DVD.

And that, dear readers, is how you boyfriend. Can there be any doubt why I adore him so?