by Melody Bowen
Page Two
There's something to be said for having a boyfriend who gets it right. By getting it right, I mean having a boyfriend who "gets it" in general. A boyfriend who knows what makes a girl's heart leap. A boyfriend who knows every nuance of how to make one's belated birthday celebration absolutely phenomenal. I mean absolutely the *best*. A boyfriend who understands that the key to a girl's heart is not in showering her with extravagant gifts, but in finding what she loves -- what really makes her tick -- and giving her exactly that. The type of boyfriend who understands these little things is the type who racks up billions of "boyfriend points" and often doesn't even know that he's done so.
Hmm. How to explain "boyfriend points"? There's no hard-and-fast system for giving one's boyfriend "points" (and developing such a system seems a little crude, a little inappropriate, maybe even a little shallow). However, one can't think about a boyfriend doing something chivalrous, sweet, or otherwise thoughtful for her and not think that he's really "added a few points" to his total for doing so. What am I talking about? I'm talking about the boyfriend who opens the car door for us and closes it behind us (yes, we still like that -- lots of points for that). I'm talking about the boyfriend who puts a hand on our lower back as we walk through a doorway (which makes us feel special -- lots of points for that). I'm talking about the boyfriend who compliments our shoes (tons and tons of points for that). I'm talking about the boyfriend who actually hears us when we mention little things that we love, the boyfriend who not only hears those things but remembers them (too many points to calculate for this sort of thing).
Ned has accumulated so many boyfriend points after only two days here that I couldn't begin to calculate them all. First, when he arrived at 5 a.m. and discovered me standing in the kitchen (with smudged masacara and hair all afright) rooting through cabinets for the Tylenol in a headache-and-lack-of-sleep-induced stupor, he still told me I was "cute" and gave me a delicious kiss. (It's impossible to count the number of points that a boyfriend accumulates for making us feel beautiful when we *know* we look scary enough to terrify small children).
The exponential outpouring of the boyfriend points came when he gave me my birthday gifts. (Not that I'm being materialistic or shallow -- promise!) This will be difficult to describe, but I'm going to give it my best shot, and I'm not even going to mention every single gift. Except to say that every single gift had very significant meaning for me. Every -- single -- gift. Every last one. Some gifts made me laugh and reminded me that he was thinking about me all the time, even when he was far from home. Some gifts made me cry and reminded me that he knows me really well, knows that I'm truly a sentimental sap, and he embraces it (ohhhh, I *so* dig that about him). One gift, though, was so wonderful and so shocking that it couldn't have been topped even if he'd bought me a spanking new BMW convertible in the same hello-I'm-fun-and-fabulous shade as my favorite nail polish.
The gift that really got me -- the one that convinced me that this man knows my heart, mind, and soul -- the one that convinced me that this man knows what makes me tick -- was a pen. Yes, a pen. Years ago, I saw this pen at an executive gift store when I was shopping with Gloria. It's a very beautiful, very heavy, very fancy fountain pen designed by a well-known architect. It's white with a pinkish band around it, and it's completely covered with block letters that read (over and over again): "THE PEN IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD." The first time I saw that pen, my little writer's heart just leapt, and Gloria was forced to drag me from the store as I whined, "No!!! It's beauuuutiful! I have to have it!!!!!" Not that I would ever buy it for myself. I always thought it was much too extravagant to buy for myself. Much, much too extravagant. At any rate, though, I mentioned it to Ned once. (Here's where the big boyfriend points come in -- I mentioned it *once*.) A few months ago, we were talking about Ned's collection of fountain pens (something I love about him), and I mentioned the "pen-is-mightier than the sword" pen that I had fallen in love with. We talked about it very briefly (I think he said, "Sounds cool."), and that was the last time it was mentioned.
Until today. I opened my final birthday gift from him, and there inside a beautiful little box was this pen. This pen that I had gone so crazy over so many years ago and had never forgotten. This pen that I flatly refused to buy myself. This pen that was, in every single way, the most perfect gift for a writer. Ever. And suddenly, I understood that this man really gets me. The reason he has such a tight hold on my heartstrings is because he understands how much it means to me that he found this fantastic gift for me. He knows how much it means to me that he remembered something I casually mentioned months ago. He knows how much it means to me that he found something for my birthday that I would never, ever get for myself, but would cherish forever. (Truly, forever!) The gift that left me speechless (a real rarity). And for that, he hits the proverbial Boyfriend Points jackpot. I'm talking about the Power-Ball-multi-gazillion-dollar, super-lotto-mother-of-all-Boyfriend-Points jackpot.
Thank you, Ned. Thank you for making this birthday so wonderful. So unbelievably off-the-charts wonderful! Thank you most of all for making me feel so very, very loved.
Note to self: Start planning for boyfriend's birthday *right away*. It would be tres gauche to be a loser in "girlfriend points" (Eek! The unthinkable!) for *not* making his birthday as special as he has made this one. Get busy, girlie. Pronto.
and all that legal-ish kind of stuff.