The Explosive Gift Situation : His Version

Note:  For the first time I have let someone else write something for my blog.  After stating how absurd our fight was I had told my friend that I at least appreciated the blogging material.  He then stated that it was only fair that he get to share his side of the story as well.  Here it is...

The gift.

A true story.

By anonymous.

I am the only son of an Italian, divorced, wealthy mother, and for me the nanosecond has always been the unit of measure to count the time intercurring between "I want" and the answer "here it is!" Therefore, when Dawn told me that she bought me a present, I immediately spot the cliffs in front of us. "I'm not very patient, Dawn," is my 'intelligenti pauca' for her. Unfortunately Dawn doesn't speak Latin, and proudly replies with a clear political program of how this affair is going to evolve: "I know. This is why you'll have to wait!"

I met Dawn Antle something more of a year ago in toytown Zurich, and we immediately became friends. She's a mix between a geek (at her job), a Talleyrand (in her social life) and a lioness (as a mother), all in the packaging of a full optional, top level, Canadian. She just can't avoid being used to have it always her way. 

Anyway, on with the story.

In the next two weeks after the official announcement that a gift was waiting for me, and after asking her, probably every day (I'm not sure if I missed one, I would need to check), when I could have it, my expectations had grown like a soufflé. Yellow shields with black horses on them were already flashing in my imagination, when here comes the first cold shower: "it's just not ready yet".  "If it's not ready, can I at least know what it is?". "No", is the reply, "I'll send you a picture". What I see is a cubic shapeless package in a brownish gift paper, unintelligible in size. "Thanks, it's what I've always wished for.", is my sarcastic thought.

I'm now at the point where my patience has to be measured with negative numbers. The mood when you're so hungry that you'd rather eat crude eggs than waiting for the omelette. So I drop her the first warning that I'm at boiling point: I send her pictures of objects that I think might be the actual content. In front of them, a warm blooded mammal, moved by compassion, would just reveal the secret. Well, not her.

A week passes fruitlessly, so I resolve to use the "N" bomb in my arsenal: Give her a present myself. Something that would make her impossible not to reciprocate, something that would make her feel guilty at any time she just looks at that. What I buy is a biscuits tin box with a carillon that rings whenever it's moved. "This is genius", I giggle. "If she doesn't fall for it, she's not human", is my thinking. 

She doesn't. The Canadian Caterpillar, in front of a hint the size of the Matterhorn, just carries on with ruthless stubbornness.

Another week week later,  I'm forced to wave my white flag, but since I would like to have at least the honors of war, I have to resort to Padrino tactics: the proposal that you can't refuse. After a kind good morning from her, I retort: "You're not clearing your conscience so easily, dear. But I'm sure you like this subtle torture, don't you?" Now, this is the closest I can get to begging "give me the damn present now or we are not friends anymore," and anybody who knows me would understand it. But not her. The red fingernailed juggernaut, in front of the moral equivalent of a bleeding horse head in your bed, just escalates to Defcon 1: "That's ok, I will win this one yet."

This is how our friendship was over forever (that is, until she just lowers her big blue eyes and softly whispers 'I'm sorry'). Not because she is an incorruptible torturer without a cause, but because she still hasn't understood that men have feelings too! And that if you shake one of our deepest rooted certainties, i.e. that we can have whatever we want no need to ask, you will get in trouble.

In the end, even I have not clearly understood how a spontaneous act of kindness has been turned into a claw. That's beyond me. What I'm sure of, is that at the end of the story, she'll walk away with it. She always does.

Footnote:  I have to be honest, the battle still rages.  In the end there will be a casualty or two, but I thought it would be interesting to share two sides of a story - and how a seemingly benign, and even intended thoughtful gesture can have the opposite affect when two people refrain from sharing openly.  Even two very good friends...

The Explosive Gift Situation : My Version

Sometimes you cross paths with someone who immediately gets you.  From literally the first moment you meet you know that person is going to be someone special in your life.

So is the case with my guy pal.  I met him within weeks of moving to Zurich and adored how he would listen to my work stories ad nauseam (and trust me, this is no easy feat), he listened to my family related dramas and best yet he laughed at my bad jokes - and he made me laugh.  I remember one particular time; it was in fact Halloween evening last year, when he spent his evening celebrating the conclusion of a very important and exhausting project of mine.  I remember one time he was driving me home from German class and I was rambling a mile a minute, when I noticed it and commented how cool it was that he listened to my blah blah blah, he responded with a laugh and gestured around the car “Dawn, where exactly can I go?” He is also the person that made sure I had pumpkin for my much longed for Thanksgiving dinner, the one that fixes my bike, and so on - that is just the kind of friend that he is…

Pretty cool huh?  But wait, I am not finished yet.  This is going to be one long blog….

One of the other things I love about my friend is that he knows how to handle me.  I am in spirit a fighter.  Everything I have in this life I fought for – and fought hard.  So when I am determined, I can be a bit, uhm, well… lets just say difficult.  However, to this friend of mine, I am not so difficult.  So somehow he became my go-to-person when the drama of life started to get to me.  “Dawn, it sounds like you are making your own movie,” is one of my favourite lines of his when I start to lose my perspective.

It all sounds kind of perfect doesn’t it? 

Now on the other hand, he  is someone who likes to have control over any and all situations.  But then as much as he likes having everything his own way, it also bores him.  He is a bit of a walking contradiction.  Normally he picks where we will meet, when we meet, what we will do – everything.  I am okay with that because he in turn listens to my long ramblings and dramatic outbursts.  For the most part, it is a friendship that is tough to beat.

But then the trouble started.  I got in trouble for not inviting my friend to do things.  I was confused.  We talked about it, but I remained confused.  To make matters more confusing for me I tried to make a suggestion and he immediately countered it with another.  In the end we did what he wanted.  (in all fairness, he had the better idea).

One day I was thinking about him and how much his friendship meant to me.  I wanted to express it, particularly after getting in trouble.  Since my attempt at planning was quickly thwarted, I thought of a gift.  Nothing special.  It had a couple of parts, one of which was not so easy to procure.  Excited I informed him that I had “a gift” for him.  To my surprise he was excited - and started texting me and demanding to see “the gift”.  As always, he demands were full of humour and light.  So I was fun back.  Soon he gave me a gift that was cute and thoughtful which made me sorry that the last part of his gift had still not arrived.  So I decided to make him wait until he could have it all and thus the full impact.

The banter of “the gift” continued.  It was fun.  Or so I thought – until the last text.  “Dawn, I don’t even want the gift anymore.”  He was annoyed!  My longest running pal here in Zurich was literally so irritated that I felt our friendship was in serious jeopardy.  So we had a heated phone discussion – he still could not see how he was so in the wrong on this one.  A gesture intended to show my appreciation was actually causing a massive conflict.  He was in my opinion completely unreasonable.

I did what any normal female would do.  I called my mother and lamented about how I was losing a friend over a stupid gift – how annoying and unreasonable my friend was being over the whole thing.   And maybe just maybe, this friendship had run its course. 

“He is right Dawn” she said.  I am still not so sure that this is the case, but alas I apologized.  A mother is the trump card on all issues otherwise unresolvable.

I told my friend that I though we were the only two people who fought over a gift.  “You could be right” he agreed.

Until now our friendship has been easy, uncomplicated.  (okay, except for another disagreement that happened about the same time last year – but alas that is another blog)  We can relate to nearly everything in each others lives because we are so similar.  We are difficult and demanding as well as sensitive.  It really is a recipe for disaster.  However, as with all good things in life – they are not always so easy.  I am glad I was able to navigate my friend’s displeasure with me – and I am glad he was able to navigate my subsequent temper tantrum.  As a result the friendship fortunately remains intact.

But what about the gift you ask?  Well, he still hasn’t got it :)

FOOTNOTE:  My friend has asked that his version of the event follow mine, so tomorrow you can read his and decide for yourself who is the more reasonable of the two of us. 

Expat Love

My beautiful running trail today.

Oh yeah, I am going to go there...

Expats are unique.  I think that in order to leave everything familiar behind, you are making a conscious decision to do so - and that there is some motivation for that.  Perhaps a broken heart, a desire to leave a previously cultivated identity behind - or just a change.  

Look at the elephant I found in
the middle of no where.

And, for the purpose of this blog I am writing about the single expat.  Not the ones that move abroad with their family.

So here we are.  A bunch of foreigners in a foreign land.  How long we are here, where we are going - no one knows.  It is a rather transient lifestyle.  However as human beings we crave intimacy - and no I am not talking about sex, I am referring to intimacy in all of its forms.  Talking, sharing, snuggling up, laughing - knowing that someone is is always there.  

As I was saying, expats, like all humans long for intimacy.  However the transient lifestyle dictates a certain behaviour pattern.  We (and yes I am including myself in this equation) avoid getting close to other people - particularly romantically.  When things start getting close - I hit the road.  Or create a drama that results in the termination of that particular relationship.  It is a recipe that works well for me - and as far as I can see, many others expats as well. 

Kind of sad huh?  

This past week I ran into someone from my past.  Someone had I walked away from. I am not sure how it happened, but we started talking.  Something that I had avoided previously.  Conversations that speak of the future, feelings and commitment make me stressed.  They are in direct conflict with my live-in-the-moment approach to life.  But it got me to thinking.  In those few moments of open honest conversation, I got to know him better than I had in all the time we previously spent together.  As did he, I.  But that (and he) is in the past and not a part of my future.  It is sometimes easier to speak openly when there is nothing to lose.

The other evening at a dinner party one fellow was sharing how he wanted to settle down and have a family.  One other fellow laughed at him and he remarked at how odd expats were when it came to relationships and their view of them. That got me thinking too.

Today I went for a challenging run with a friend.  It felt wonderful.  The spectacular autumn foliage only added to my appreciation of it all.  My thoughts wandered to the past, the present and of course what lay ahead.  Uncertainty or no uncertainty - it time to plant roots and settle in to my place here in the world - and, maybe, just maybe take a chance on love...


And now I am sending this song out to my running friend...  

A Good Life..

I started to write a whole lot of blah blah, but decided instead to post a picture of the beautiful leaf lined street I was running down today, another of the sunset from the evening before and the song that I find myself singing tonight.

Life is good.

This evening I find myself in the mood for a little Santana...

A Playlist for a Grey Day

Sometimes a song is more than a song.  As I made my way through the day, I let myself slip into a mood that was as grey and bleary as the sky overhead.  I put in my headphones and listened to a favourite playlist from years gone by when a certain song came on.

This particular song helped me through the loss of someone important to me.  When he left this world for another I found myself struggling with coping.   During the day I was busy running my business, being a mom, friend, daughter - basically trying to show everyone I was okay.  At night when I was alone, the curtain dropped.  Somehow I found my comfort in the garage of my home, sitting in my convertible with the top down and this song blasting.  I would sing along with such vigour, I am sure my neighbours were also sleepless these long nights.  But in that particular moment in time that particular song helped.

Then there was the decision of whether or not to move to Europe.  Indecisive I spent a great deal of time making excuses and flying back and forth.  In many ways I think I was waiting for a sign.  Or someone to tell me not to do something.  Sadly, I have to admit, it is sometimes a bit tough being the single, independent female.  I really did not want to make that decision all by myself.  

So as I wrestled with the decision and continued with the transatlantic lifestyle, I found myself many a time on a plane.  As the jets roared to prepare for takeoff this song would pop in my mind.   I was halfway to gone to a new life and I was feeling so not ready...

I also listened once again to a song a good friend sent me recently.   In the end I did not solve the problem that was on my mind today, but an old playlist reminded me that sometimes things simply are the way they are.  Sometimes you just have to breathe - one deep breath after another.  And that change happens whether you are ready or not.  And the song from my friend reminded me that no matter what I am never alone - if I don't wish to be.

The Fork in the Road

Whoohoo!  

Life has remained fast and furious. But I have realized lately that in the rush of it all that I may have neglected to fully appreciate some of the people that make my life move from good to truly great.  I've been so busy loving (and often, simply surviving) the moments that I may have inadvertently let down a few people that make them so special (as well as survivable).

Tonight as I flip through a few  old messages from those that matter most I realize that there were times when some were reaching out.  Too busy, too distracted - I missed the signs.  

Success

I loved last night.  My friends all around, the conversation and the laughter.  Collectively eating too much.  The banter, the appreciation of the food, effort and simply being together.  It was a first Thanksgiving for pretty much everyone, and the spirit of it was embraced to the fullest.

I cannot help but feel immense gratitude to the people who make up my family away from home - they made certain that I enjoyed a holiday that I missing so...