Ungifted giver’s wish list

I’m so bad at giving gifts that one year I gave my wife a cheque on our anniversary so she could buy a gift of her choice.

Putting people in little boxes or labelling them is never a good idea. With the global population having reached an estimated 7.5 billion in April this year, the only fact we can be 100% sure of, is there are many unique individuals roaming the planet.

That said, I cannot help wondering if humankind consists of two groupings: those who find buying gifts a form of torture and those I could label as natural givers. Unfortunately, I find myself in the first category.

In fact, I’m so bad at giving gifts that one year I gave my wife a cheque on our anniversary so she could buy a gift of her choice. She never cashed it. And she’s also never forgotten about it.

That was after she had exchanged the watch I had given her a year before.

But some of my friends, like Johan and Laurinda, and Ben, and too many others to mention, are in the latter group. They must either be blessed with the gift of giving or they’re psychic.

You must have friends like that too: the ones that blow you away with a perfect cheese slicer or gloves that seem to fill a void in your soul.

I’m not writing about gifts because of the imminent arrival of Christmas. No, my message today it to remind my friends that it’s my birthday exactly 10 days after Christmas: January the fourth.

That first dreaded week of the year when every third ATM transaction will be concluded with the words “insufficient funds”. Seeing that I will be turning 50 in January, I have decided to make my wish list public.

So here goes: For my birthday, I want time with my friends. Not just on my birthday, but every day. Share a joke and a drink. Let me be the first to hear your good news. Don’t be afraid to tell me about your hardships.

Forgive me when I’m insensitive or just plain idiotic. It happens to all of us. Remind me to remember important dates, like your birthday. Don’t let me spend an entire day with a piece of glob on my chin. Wipe it off with your sleeve.

In short: give me stuff money can’t buy. Alternatively, red wine is good.