So, another dilemma calls for another mass poll. I'm sending Perfect a care package at college. That much has already been decided. Mainly because I texted him this afternoon for his mailing address. Some flirting and trying to weasel out of my what I was sending him later, I got his address. He didn't get any hints as to what I'm sending other than me saying "it's totally you and I don't think you could/should live without it."
At the beginning, the care package consisted of the book that sprouted this whole idea, The Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook, and a card. It's true-- the WCSSH lived on my bookshelf for awhile, and has been lent to a couple exes and boys in the past, but when I looked at it with fresh eyes a week ago, I was like, "Damn, that is so perfectly Perfect. How to land a plane? How to fend off a shark? How to deliver a baby in a taxicab? How to jump off a bridge into water? Hey, wait-- this may keep him alive longer and safer when jumping off concrete barriers at the Mills!" I am all for keeping him alive longer.
So we started with the book and a card. As of 3 PM this afternoon while I was texting him for his address, that was what the care package consisted of. But give me time to think, money in my bank account, and the challenge of being the world's best Not-Girlfriend, and I get dangerous.
"I need another little something," I thought. So while card-shopping at Borders (we'll get to the card itself later), I picked up a few Vermont postcards thinking of scrawling a "Greetings from Home!" on the back of one if I could find one of Montpelier.
I one-upped myself.
Almost right after I finished that thought, I picked up one of a beautiful rural town in winter and flipped it over to read the location. Worcester. I can take a sign.
So we have the book, the (soon-to-be-infamous) card, and the postcard of Worcester/home. But no-- this wasn't cutting it. I needed something fun. I needed something that Spencer's Gifts didn't sell because I wanted something neither beer- nor sex-themed because I don't want him A.) drinking his way into another girl's vagina with the help of my loving gift, or B.) in another girl's vagina with the help of my loving gift. Melissa suggested a mini First Aid kit to go with the WCSSH. Perfect. Helpful, and themed. I loved it. To EMS we went.
But as we're standing in EMS debating over small First Aid kits, I get struck with a thought. I don't want to be considered the (gasp!) Mommy Girl. I don't want to be thought of as the girl who's constantly telling him to be careful and watch out and oh go, don't do that! I want to be the fun girl who sends great care packages. I want to be the best Not-Girlfriend there ever was. I needed...something fun. And a mini battery-operated light-flashing frisbee was fun. There was only a moment of worry about the fact that while I can palm it comfortable, Perfect's hands will eat it up-- what the hell? It's a mini light-up frisbee! It's great! It's...dare I say? PERFECT.
At the register, after forking over my debit card for the umpteenth time that day, the guy behind the counter looks at me. "Hey. How are you?"
I huff a sigh. "I'm good."
"That doesn't sound good."
"Well, I'm just trying to put together a care package for my guy and spending more time and thought and money on it than I thought I would be originally. But I guess it's a good day if you're having a hissy-fit over being generous."
And then this total stranger said something while ringing me out that made my ears ring. "Hopefully he's not out drunk and hooking up with another girl."
Ummm, EXCUSE ME? I worry enough about this on my own time. Aren't you paid to make your customers feel GOOD?! Thankfully, after seeing my glazed and then bitchy expression (the bitchy more at the thought of what if Perfect is out getting some other girl off rightthissecond), Register Dude calmed his shit down and assured me I was putting together a kick-ass care package a guy would love. Thanks.
So...we have the WCSSH. The Worcester postcard. The mini First Aid kit, which will totally be used, with Band-Aids and athletic tape and aspirin and alcohol wipes...yeah, I feel good about that one...and the mini light-up frisbee, which is a great homework breaker and roommate bonder. (Melissa, my roommate of the past 3 years, bonded over a light-up rubber ball our freshmen year. Anything light-up and toy-themed is apparently the key to roomie love in college.) And then...there's the card.
Oh, the card. I have to say, I'm not really posting this to sway my mind about sending it. I'm posting this to see the responses I get A.) about the care package items and if you think Perfect will like/enjoy/use them/love me a little more for sending them, B.) to see how many of you think I'm totally off my rocker for sending this boy a care package, even though I send EVERYONE car packages, (They're kind of my deal. I make bitchin' things to send to people. Although it's usually to my girl friends and that's why I'm freaking out so much about this particular very "boy" care package,) and C.) to prepare for what Perfect may think about the card. Regardless, that card, and it's message, are going into the care package box tomorrow. Perfect knows my humor. I know what he takes seriously and what he doesn't. If I can get away with telling him one of my other lovers took the sexy pics of me, I can get the point of this card across in the way it's supposed to be-- funny college sexy humor-- and not the way I wouldn't want it to be taken-- I want him to follow the directions on it because I'M SO IN LOVE WITH HIM.
I'm not. To clear up any questions. I adore him with all my heart, and I do love him, but I'm not IN love with him. I still haven't had enough time or time with him to see if he's someone I could be in love with. My gut tells me that yes, given time and the chance, I could, but my mind is telling me I've had neither time nor the chance.
...Although it was pointed out that we have now known each other for 5 months and been more or less together for all of it. (I'm going for the "less." True, for the first month we were solidly together, but June and July were iffy and weirdly polite and formal and non-thrilling. August and September are shaping up well though as to the Return of the "Us.")
So. The card. It reads on the front: "How to please a woman? Love her, die for her, take her to dinner, miss the football for her, buy her jewelery, be interested in what she has to say... How to please a man? Show up naked; bring beer."
The inside is blank. In it, I plan to write, "Sorry-- couldn't ship any beer."
See? Funny. Light. College. Not crazy wannabe housewife and babymama. No pointed hints that I want him to skip the football or buy me jewelry. In fact, I would yell at him if he turned the football off, and my father the goldsmith and jeweler is the only man I accept jewelry from, thanks. I also plan on writing some other little stuff about the contents, like "Have fun, and the First Aid kit is for when you need to stick yourself back together after jumping off those buildings and wrestling those alligators," (referencing inside the WCSSH). Keep it light. Keep the front of the card and him thinking about me, naked, with beer, and the inside calm, cool, collected, sweet, and funny. The best Not-Girlfriend there ever was, in other words. The kind of thing that will make him want to take this Not-Girlfriend and tear the "Not" right off of the beginning.
So, loyal readers, what do you think? Is this a winning care package? Will my dyslexic Prince Charming be so taken with the survival guide's quirky subject matter that he'll maybe read some parts of it and keep himself alive a bit longer and not succumb to a random drive-by shooting or shark attack in quintessential, land-locked New England-town Fitchburg, Mass? Does this score me major boy brownie points, and, as I screamed in the parking lot outside of EMS to Melissa, not realizing that there were families waiting to get into the Italian restaurant next door, does this at least deserve getting fucking laid next time I see him? (The amount I have spent will remain a secret known only to me, but in any case, the sex would be worth it. I don't expect a care package of my own back, unless you're counting the package inside his jeans, and then, YES PLEASE.) And, how do you think the card will go over? Hmmm? Hmmm???
Tell me. I'm all ears.
...And eyes and lips and arms and legs and boobs. Of course. Sillies.