If I’m still writing about bad gift situations by Independence Day, somebody pull the plug. Meanwhile here are more “worst gifts ever” contenders, sent by readers. I give no names in the interest of domestic tranquility.
A forty-something wife and mother reports:
“Years ago, when I was in the military, my boyfriend gave me a scale for Christmas. I was physically fit at the time. I cried and broke up with him that same afternoon.”
This story comes from a lady whose husband was friendly with the owner of a ladies’ boutique, sweaters, dresses, jewelry and such.
“That year my husband had wrapped a lot of packages for me, soft ones that he had not put into boxes. I was really excited by Christmas morning.
“Imagine my surprise when, opening the gifts, I found package after package of hideous, rust-colored towels. Dozens of them. And they had an odor, due to the dye in the fabric.
“I bit my tongue because our three young children were watching. I’ll never forget that Christmas, but I’m not even sure my husband realized how much I hated those towels.”
“In the summer of 1963, my betrothed and I bought a home with a basement. As we were not yet married, we had to list the title, etc., as tenants in common, showing him as a bachelor and me as a 21-year-old spinster.
“We married soon after and I looked forward to exchanging Christmas gifts with him that year in our new house. On Christmas Eve, he led me down to the basement for my special surprise gift.
“Opening my eyes, I saw a big, white Sears washer and dryer. I tried to hide my disappointment as my husband explained that the washer was ‘top of the line.’ The Sears book said, ‘The housewife could choose to use the Suds-Saver if she wanted to.’
“My loving husband said the washer and dryer would save time, as we wouldn’t have to go to my parents’ home every weekend to do our laundry. Merry Christmas.’”
The lady and her husband have outlasted the two appliances by more than 20 years and counting.
Last week we brought you “Buddy,” a “Safety Man” mannequin, instantly loved by the man who gave it and the happy recipient, his wife.
To my surprise, a reader now has introduced us to “Bridget,” a mannequin beauty whose owner describes it as “single, loved by many” and having her own Facebook account.
Bridget’s owner says her mannequin wonders whether Buddy is single too. I believe the question is moot.
Aside from creepy fake dummies, I sense a pattern here of hapless, clueless husbands buying dreadful gifts for deflated spouses with long memories.
Maybe men should stick to bringing home the bacon. Don’t forget, bacon, always a taste treat, now comes in perfume and cologne form.
How could the wife not appreciate that?