Dominick gave Sharon gifts. Peeps at Easter, chocolate hearts for Valentines Day, and on her birthday “gold” jewelry that turned her skin green. They were the kinds of presents girls got in elementary school. The boy I liked gave me my first cigarette.He skulked around the neighborhood. His straight blond bangs covered his boyishly handsome face, as he tried to be invisible from the adults which might suspect he was truant. On occasion he walked me home from school as I nattered on about the presents Sharon got. He never looked up, and never gave me any gifts.

 

When a boy gave you something in the fifth grade it meant he liked you. In my innocent confusion I began to wonder why my adolescent choice of a boyfriend was someone who never asked me what I liked, or what my interests were. And despite the focus being on him, I remained his girlfriend, and remained silent until the relationship faded away.

I knew I was questioning my choices, but I didn’t know who to ask about what I was thinking or doing, ergo no answers, just got older, and repeated the pattern. More of the same.

My teenage romance began at fourteen and lasted until I left for college. He was five years my senior, so kind and well-meaning, but he didn’t give our relationship much thought. He was a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. I read literature, he read the liner notes of every Grateful Dead album, and we grew apart. We loved each other, and stayed friends until sadly he was killed in an accident in his thirties. My juvenile definition of love sometimes leached into how I wanted him to love me, and I would sometimes think about the presents Dominick gave Sharon. I don’t remember ever receiving any presents from him over the course of our four-year relationship.

The next man in my life was brilliant. He knew things I would never know. Sometimes I didn’t understand a word he was saying. He was fluent in Fortran and Cobalt before most people knew what computers were. Hours would go by with him perched on a stool reading  and studying. He was introspective, quick-witted and gentle, but ultimately we were unable to find a common emotional language to give us a future together. I don’t remember him ever giving me any gifts.

Other men came and went. Same as it ever was, with the exception of an eruptive, all-encompassing relationship that left me broken-hearted in my early twenties. And then I met the man who became my husband.

Once we were sure we would go forward in life as a couple he gave me his pin number, back when ATM’s were equivalent to flying saucers. To a girl who had almost never been on the receiving end of tangible displays of affection, sharing that information was tantamount to an engagement ring.

My doorman knew I had been crying. I had retraced my steps surrounding the four blocks I had walked but couldn’t find the earring. I asked my then husband’s assistant to interrupt him in the closed-door meeting. Sobbing I explained that one of the diamond earrings he had given me had fallen out. It was replaced.

He gave me a car wrapped with a red ribbon, just like in a TV commercial. He gave me  jewelry, giant bouquets of exotic flowers, and luxury vacations, and when I asked for my own professional quality copy machine, he gave me that.

He gave me things, but I never felt like what I imagined Sharon felt like when Dominick gave her candy. I never felt loved.

And then we divorced. I had grown accustomed to having and owning things without  thinking about how they would be paid for. I was able to shop just because I wanted to. Post marriage I bought what I needed, with only an occasional splurge. I bought a pair of boots that cost more than my rent when I still had spousal support. When that ended so too did those kinds of purchases.

I got a job. My salary was probably less than what we had once paid our live in nanny. Style isn’t contingent on how much something cost, but none the less I stopped shopping in stores where the bills had once been sent to our business manager to be paid.

My former husband and I had agreed that I would be a stay at home mother, given that I had not worked in years. When I went back to work the rules had changed. One rule that doesn’t change however is that it is never okay to sexually harass employees. That was the situation I found myself in.

I was up against a powerful, rich employer. We settled out of court. I spent a portion of my settlement in the Beverly Hills Hermes store and bought the signature “H” belt.

Several years later I had a workplace injury which resulted in a torn rotator cuff and surgery. I was awarded a settlement, and with a portion of that money I purchased a Tag Heuer watch. The watch was stolen from my gym locker.

Last year I dated, or more accurately re-dated someone I knew when I was much younger. He knew that my watch had been stolen and asked for the model number so that he could replace it. The watch he gave me was quite different. It was reflective of his taste, more so than mine. We talked about it. It wasn’t important that the watch was different. It was hurtful that he had not listened to me. As if what I said didn’t matter. He bought the watch he wanted me to wear, not the one I had already been wearing. The watch stopped working. In less time than it took me to type this sentence our family jeweler told me it wasn’t authentic.

Sharon didn’t love Dominick any less for having received jewelry that turned her skin green. He gave it to her with the sincere desire to make her happy. It’s possible that the watch I received was given to me with that same intent. I was not happy though. Not because the watch wasn’t real, but because it was presented as if it was. But, I don’t want to be with a man who isn’t forthcoming with the truth in every circumstance.

When I got divorced my children and I moved across the street from a man that fell in love with all of us. I was too enmeshed in the betrayal I felt in my marriage to be in love with someone else. But he loved me just exactly as I was, and gave me exceptionally beautiful gifts that he either made or bought. Things that I would have designed or chosen for myself. But I was too stupid, and too focused on our differences to let him love me. I broke his heart, and so regret that. His kindness though has given me something more valuable than any actual thing. He has left me believing that there are kind and honest men.

I am hopeful that going forward in my life my luxury purchases won’t be the made possible by accidents, injuries or lawsuits. My ex-husband once said that I would be the one in our family to earn large sums of money because of my talent. That has not happened yet, but I look forward to the time when I’ll be able to buy something I want, and be able to buy things for my children just because I want to.

I don’t need a relationship to qualify how loved I am anymore. I have been able to give that to myself.

Heart Painting taken Miami’s oldest bar – Tobacco Road http://tobacco-road.com/index.php

Grateful Dead – http://www.dead.net/

Tag Heuer – http://us.tagheuer.com/en/home

Hermes – http://www.hermes.com/index_us.html

Mural by Ruben Ubiera – http://www.facebook.com/RubenUbiera

I will be reading Raw live at Nextat19th on March 17th 9PM – This is a free event

http://nextat19th.org/