When it comes to being bourgeois, there is perhaps nothing worse than a boyfriend/husband with terrible taste vis-à-vis what to get his girlfriend/wife as a gift. Regardless of the occasion—Christmas, birthday, anniversary, what have you—there are few things as odious to the bourgeois girlfriend/wife as a bad gift—a tasteless gift. And that’s precisely what Benjamin gave to Malena every time there was a special moment to commemorate. But, to Malena, Benjamin made everything decidedly unspecial with his gift-giving abilities, or lack thereof.

Malena knew, of course, that it was largely her own fault for choosing to be with Benjamin—to marry Benjamin—after having seen time and time again at the very outset of their relationship that he had absolutely no skill, no grace in the art of gift-giving. And yes, it took being with Benjamin for Malena to fully appreciate that gift-giving is an art. After receiving some of the gauche things feigning “classiness” (that word itself being tacky) that Benjamin thrust at her, Malena knew it to be so. And it made her yearn for the days when she was dating Jacob, a man from a well-to-do family that had bred him to understand and easily identify the finer things. Not things that were, at their core, cheaply made and unsightly. That’s what Benjamin knew how to give. Even under the guise of insisting that whatever it was “fit right in” with Malena’s style/interests. Um no, she wanted to tell him, this isn’t me at all. And if this is really how you see me, I don’t know how we can be together.

But, obviously, Malena knew exactly how they could be together: because Benjamin was fairly decent in bed and also “conceded” to giving her head now and again. Sadly, that was deemable as a “real catch” these days—Jacob never tried to eat her out, wouldn’t even make the attempt. Plus, he was full-stop bad in bed. Thus, bedroom satisfaction had to outweigh gift satisfaction.

It was a challenging decision to make, but, alas, it had to be done. Malena chose the flesh over the materially temporal, as many women before her had…just look at Lady Chatterley. And, despite her best efforts, Benjamin never picked up on her none-too-subtle hints about how she thought his gifts were shit. Like the time she tried on this horrible ankle-length dress he gave her for her birthday in front of him and she exclaimed to her reflection in the mirror, “I look like a fucking Mennonite!”

Evidently, Benjamin didn’t grasp that this meant she hated the goddamn thing. In fact, he completely glossed over what she said, responding by asking her if she wanted to go to dinner that night. To further emphasize her disgust for the gift and for his refusal to acknowledge that disgust, Malena tersely replied, “No.” And all Benjamin could then do in that moment was worsen Malena’s mood by saying, “That’s a shame. I wanted to take you out in your new dress.” And with that, he got up and went into the other room, perhaps intuiting that Malena might blow her top if he lingered for another second.

As soon as he left, she ripped the dress off, actually tearing the fabric as she did so. Which meant that, yes, not only was it ugly, but also cheap. Could this really be how Benjamin saw her? Did he not know her at all? Sure, he seemed to know how to get her off well enough, but she wanted him to truly know her, and that extended to knowing her likes and dislikes. At the same time, even if Benjamin was more attuned to that, it might still be impossible to filch any kind of decent gift from him because his taste was so fundamentally bad.

When she confided this over lunch one day to her best friend, Ginny, the latter’s antisemitic rhetoric reared its ugly head as she blurted out, “It’s probably because he’s Jewish. I mean, have you seen how awfully most Jewish people’s apartments are decorated? Like they’re stuck in the most drab 1970s-era interior design magazine.”

Malena sighed as she looked disapprovingly at Ginny and said, “No, I really don’t think that’s it.”

Ginny shrugged, unbothered. “Well, I do. At least partly.”

Malena returned, “Whatever the ‘reason,’ it’s driving me crazy. And also making me feel like some kind of vapid bitch for placing so much weight on this really very minor flaw…”

“Is it though? ‘Cause it does sound pretty fucking annoying/careless of him. I think I’d kick Dell in the nuts if he did the same thing on a consistent basis. So I guess I’m a vapid bitch, too. Maybe that’s why we’re best friends.”

This wasn’t a consolation to Malena, who left the restaurant feeling more unsettled about the whole fiasco than before. Was being married to a bad gift giver grounds for divorce? Surely it was. People had divorced over far less these days. And while it pained her to admit it, Malena was seriously considering the option. Even though it would come as a total surprise to Benjamin, oblivious as he was to all her previous indications about being unhappy with the presents he gave her. In contrast, she always got him the best, most expensive gifts, which he, in turn, scarcely paid any mind to or even used/wore. The sterling silver cufflinks? She’d seen him wear them once. The Armani suit? Twice, both times at her behest. The Italian leather recliner? He never sat in it, always opting for the beat-up couch he refused to replace.

And then it dawned on her suddenly: what if he actually hated all of her gifts, too? Could it be? Despite how lavish and well thought out they were? It was then that she hit the gas even harder to get home so that she could ask him point-blank. When she arrived, he was sitting on the couch, watching a rerun of Columbo, a show she never took any interest in.

“Benjamin?” she called out.

He didn’t turn around, but replied. “Hey babe, how’s it going?”

“Can we talk?”

That got him to turn around. “Uh oh. What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, really. I just want to ask you something.”

Benjamin turned off the TV and got up to approach her. “Alright then. Ask away.”

“Why don’t you ever use or wear the gifts I give you?”

Benjamin seemed taken aback by the question, as though he hoped it would never come up. “Oh. Um, I do, don’t I?”

“No, you really don’t. Whereas I suffer the ignominy of being seen in public in something like that shitty Mennonite dress.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“That’s why I’m fucking telling you. I’ve reached my limit on bad gifts, Benjamin. Gifts that say you don’t really know me at all.”

“Ha. Well, then, to be perfectly honest: right back at you. I don’t like your gifts even a little. They’re totally pretentious, like you’re playing at turning to me into something I’m not. I’m a simple man, Malena. I don’t like fancy things, and you should know that about me by now.”

“I guess I should, based on the cheap schlock you pass off as a present.”

“Okay now, no need to be so hostile.”

“Well I am. I can’t believe you don’t appreciate what I carefully choose out for you—the quality, the style.”

“Same. What I choose for you is much more thoughtful.”

Malena ran her hand through her hair in exasperation. “This is a huge problem.”

“Not really. How about we just don’t buy gifts for each other anymore? It would save me a lot of mental and financial exertion.”

Malena glared at him. “Would it? How about I save you even more by ending this marriage?”

Benjamin scoffed. “You’re being much too dramatic, Malena. I never thought you were that type of woman.”

“You don’t know what ‘type of woman’ I am at all! That’s the fucking problem!”

“And you get all of this because I don’t give you the gifts you want?”

“It’s more than that. It represents something larger.”

Benjamin glares at her. “You know what? Do whatever you want. I’ll happily sign divorce papers if this is the bitch you’re going to be for the rest of our marriage.”

***

After the divorce was final, Malena walked out of the lawyers’ office ahead of Benjamin, who had hung back to ask a question. As she made her way toward her car, Benjamin ran after her shouting, “Malena, wait up!”

She stopped and looked back at him, panting to catch up as he held a large-sized black velvet jewelry box in his hand.

When he caught up to her, he presented it and said, “I want you to have one last gift from me. A gift I think you’ll actually like.”

She smiled, admitting, “That’s very sweet, Benjamin.”

Malena opened it slowly, expecting to see some gleaming, Pretty Woman-esque necklace, only to be met with the sight and smell of a small turd. She looked back up at Benjamin, who asked, as though it was the most normal gift in the world, “Do you like it?”

She sneered. “Oh yes. I love it. And I know exactly what to do with it.” And before Benjamin could think to get out of her way, she thrust the box in his face with the turd facing outward so that she could smear it all over his skin. When she was done, she dropped the box to the concrete and announced, “There, now you’re a shithead figuratively and literally.”