When the thought really doesn’t count

Chutney. That says it all.

My last relationship was nice while it lasted. Which I suppose is a good thing. But maybe I wasn’t really honest with myself about feelings I had along the way because I was so desperate for it to work and not have to ‘go back on the shelf’. The relationship finished 16 months ago, ended by me, and although we live in the same area, I rarely see him.

During the relationship, I liked to buy little things for the man. Nothing extravagant, but just little things which I knew he liked. Those words are important. For example, for his birthday, I had a picture printed of a number of photos we had taken on our first (and only) trip together. 

I didn’t do this because I expected something in return. I did it because I liked thinking of him and I wanted him to know that.

For Christmas, he was coming to join me and my 3 children on the evening of Christmas Day after his 12-hour shift had finished. It was a very big thing for me as it was the first time he had stayed here whilst the children were here. (We had actually spent very few entire nights together because of the children always being here, but had managed a couple of nights when they were away on holiday).

I had already given him his Christmas presents a couple of days before so that he would have something to open on Christmas morning before starting work at 6am.

Let’s just say that I wasn’t given a present when he arrived at the house. He came empty-handed. Nothing for me, nothing for the children, nothing to drink, no tin of biscuits or box of chocolates. I didn’t think toooo much of it because I was happy to see him, but the next day I felt a little unloved.

But not to worry, because a week later (yes, an entire week after Christmas) he turned up with 2 boxes of mince pies (which were leftovers from the homeless shelter where he volunteered – which were initially donations from a local company) and a box of chutneys which he had picked up from the local Christmas market.

I don’t disrespect chutney. But I also don’t eat chutney: never have and probably never will because it is too acidic for me. It did not show that he had given any thought to the only present he had ever bought me. I’m not even sure what the thought did show. I don’t think there was thought.

And for that reason, (not completely that reason, but it lead to the spiralling of thoughts which got me there) me and the man were no more. It really was that swift: I finished the relationship a week later.

What have I learnt from this post: if I (ever) date again, I would like someone to show that they actually know what I do (and don’t) like. Chutney: that says it all. 


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