You have no idea about presents or what they mean. The last present you gave me was a stick.β βYou wanted a weapon.β βIt was a stick.β βIt had a bow on it.β βIt was a stick.β βI thought you liked the stick. You laughed.
If there's anything romcoms have taught us about spontaneous gifting, it's that the big expensive presents are often a sign of guilt. But not the small, sort of rubbish presents. It seems to me that a cheap bag of crisps says a whole lot more than a gold necklace. It says 'You occupy such a vast space in my mind, I think of you so constantly, that my day-to-day life throws up constant reminders of you.' That person is, subconsciously or not, considered in everything you do and everywhere you go. Even in somewhere as mundane as the supermarket snack aisle.
When confronted with a birthday in a week I will remember that a book can be a really good present, too.
A Christmas without a book for a present is a disappointment.
If it were not for the presents, an elopement would be preferable.
