I watched the very first episode of Jane the Virgin when it first aired, and I wasn’t immediately won over. It was too convoluted, too melodramatic, and too many other things that I knew I’d have to be in the right mood to watch.

Well, I ended up recording it all, anyway, and started watching again yesterday, and have been ever since. Yes, it’s convoluted, yes, melodramatic, and the farce level is beyond belief. Yet, I am drawn to watching this, now. I think it’s mainly because of the convolutions of it all.

Yes, it’s over-the-top, but the narrator really keeps you interested, the on-screen texting helps a great deal, and the occasional on-screen captions explaining this or that character keeps the humor level and the melodrama at a nice balance. And I like puzzles, very much. Give me a good mystery, and I’m hooked.

Back when I was a kid, there was this show: The Ellery Queen Mysteries, I think its name was. I don’t remember a lot of specifics, actually. The lead had brown hair, and it was curly, I think. But I do remember the format, and it was awesome. Ellery would wander around the show, finding clues, yet the audience was not filled into any of them explicitly. And the bad guy was never revealed until Ellery revealed him. And then there’d be a “Did you figure it out? Here are the clues you COULD have seen (but probably missed)” segment.

I loved that, that I’d get to compete with Ellery Queen himself. And I remember solving a couple of them before the reveal, even at my young age. (My mom helped, a lot.) [I don’t remember when the show was on, and I’m resisting the impulse to look it up. My memory tells me it was when I was in my adolescence, and since I’m telling this from my memory, as honestly as I’m able, I’m not going to “cheat.”] It was a fun show, and I was very sad when it wasn’t on any longer. At least until the next thing caught my attention. But I guess it made a pretty good impact on me, since I do remember it, on occasion, when I compare to other, more current shows. (And I find the newer ones a bit lacking, honestly.)

I also remember the Sunday Night Mysteries, that would cycle through several shows. Columbo, McCloud, even Nightstalker, back then, were among them. I think Kojak even started there before it got its own time-slot. Of those, Columbo was the closest to Ellery Queen Mysteries. The bad-guy was revealed to the audience earlier, but they kept the suspense up by making Columbo not tell all his clues to catch him until the end of the show.

I think I’ve always had a real connection to a mystery, if it’s well told. The current crop reveals the bad-guy really fast, and sometimes the clues found are just fictional magickery. (C.S.I: Cyber is a real good example of that.) But I still tend to like them, if only a bit. The thing that keeps me, and I imagine the rest of the audience, coming back is the interpersonal stories. The character arcs are what compel me to see the next episode. Back in the Ellery Queen days, there was no real character continuity, other than “How will Ellery solve the newest murder?” But I still miss the chance to compete against the hero.

Now, Jane the Virgin does have a murder mystery in it. But that’s only one, rather minor, plot point. There’s the botched insemination event, her father reemerging, a wedding, the new love, a divorce, the mob, a controlling mother, a passive-aggressive grandmother, step-step-sisters, a good-for-nothing brother dating a best friend, and on and on. It’s a massive pile of puzzles that keeps me tuning in to the next one. The humor is not to be dismissed. I think it’s the only thing that gets me past the melodrama.

And one of the biggest mysteries, to me, is this: Is this what a real Telenovela is like? I mean, I’ve seen a lot of them, and understood maybe 10% of them. I had a girlfriend who understood Spanish once, but she didn’t really like Telenovelas, so poo-pooed any question I had about them. But it seems to me this show is one, if mostly in English. And if it is, then I can see how folks can get wrapped up in them. They’re like Soaps on steroids. No regard for realism, or an even hand toward dialog. It’s all heavy, yet goofy, farcical, even.

Frankly, I don’t like farces, much. I hated the last few seasons of 30 Rock, because it got more and more farcical, and hated The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmitt because it STARTED that way. 3^rd Rock from the Sun got a pass, because John Lithgow is just that good, but it was pretty out there, as well. (Makes sense for a Space Alien Show to be Out There, no?) But I’m enjoying this one, and I decided to sit down and figure out why.

And I think I did: the puzzles. It’s more than the murder part, it’s how things are all fitting together, and the entire tapestry of the story being revealed episode by episode. It’s like a really good crossword puzzle. One that I sit over and think about each clue, and try an fit the right words into the spaces, so that it all fits in one lovely, completed puzzle.

I do crossword puzzles most every day, but sometimes, I’ll go a day or two without. I just don’t feel the need to turn my brain on 100% for a bit. I once went over a year without doing any puzzles, and I didn’t really miss it.

And that’s how I feel Jane the Virgin is going to be for me. I’ve been writing this for about an hour now, and I haven’t been missing the show. And I’m mid-season. I’m sure I’ll pick it up easily if I do start watching it again. (And I will, re: previous post, I AM a bitter-ender.) But, I can say this with some real certainty. Once I reach the end of this show, I don’t think I’ll need to watch another season of it. If it ends on a cliffhanger, I’ll be a bit miffed, but this show has SO MANY threads, that if one or two end up hanging, who cares, so many others will be resolved.

This show does a VERY good job of showing that life is complicated, but if you do miss out on a little bit here and there, it’s not the end, you just move on. And that’s like this show, and presumably Telenovelas in general. Watch, quit, pick it up again years later, and you’ll be caught up in no time. The opening monologue of the Narrator, (a character that would be missed), that’s comedy, in itself. I think I could edit together the first minute of each episode to make a really funny and concise summary of the entire season. (I haven’t looked, but I’m willing to bet someone did that already, and it’s on YouTube.)

But I have already reached that point of my brain being too tired to watch the show, as made obvious of me writing this post. I don’t mean my brain gets tired. (Otherwise I wouldn’t be writing, that takes a lot of brain-power, I’ll have you know.) But I do mean it’s tired of processing this amount of silliness, of this show. The show is contrived. Funny, imaginative and the acting is spot-on, but it’s all a life I would NEVER live, and so I can’t identify with any one character. A pretty significant reason to watch any show, in my opinion.

Yet, it’s fun enough to make it through my 3 episode testing, and since I have the entire season recorded, I will watch it all, and be done. But I’m deleting the season pass, because I know I won’t want this, next year. I’ve satisfied that bit of curiosity, and found it fun to visit, but I am not moving there.

I started writing this as I’m binge-watching the last half seasons of The Flash and Arrow from The CW. I loved Arrow when it first started, but my interest waned the more dark it became. With the introduction of The Flash, though, I felt I had to maintain interest in Arrow because, if nothing else, there is a pretty strong connection of the two shows, and I would hate to miss any nuances if I didn’t watch both.

Let me just say, I’m a bitter-ender, and a completist, though not exclusively. I stopped watching Battlestar Galactica before they revealed the last Cylon, mainly because I felt strongly about how the writers totally changed the character of Tory as soon as she figured out she was a Cylon. (Oh, I’m one of the evil ones, I guess I’ll space Cally to show it.) And I left Lost before season 5 ended, because it was just becoming too silly to bear. And, from numerous sources, I feel quite vindicated on giving up on both, as the endings I read about would have pissed me off for all the wasted hours I watched. At least I wasted a few less than many.

But, as I still hold some residual affection for Arrow, and truly am enjoying The Flash, keeping both on my radar has some significance to me. Leaning into my completism, I even went so far as to create a spreadsheet of the two shows, and their air dates, to make sure I watched them in order, so that I could keep crossovers and shared character appearances in some semblance of shared-world timeline. And I have to say, The CW is doing a good job of making sure things don’t get mixed up, time-wise, IF you watch them in this order. Watching all of one season and then the other, well, it would be really confusing, or at least a bit of a spoiler on one viewing, and a letdown of the other. So, if I do ever buy the DVD/Blu-rays of the series, I’ll have to buy both series, to keep things straight. Expensive and something I’ll have to truly ruminate on, if I ever decide to do that. (The MCU is getting to be a problem, in that way. I have really been disappointed in Marvel’s Agent’s of S.H.E.I.L.D. for so many reasons, that I won’t go into here, that I decided it’s one aspect of the MCU that I will never buy, unless it’s on a discount rack, perhaps. But I am getting every other bit I can, when I can.)

Here we come to the meat of my thesis. As of Suicidal Tendencies, Oliver was being pressured to take over the mantle of Ra’s al Ghul, and over the next three episodes, The League of Assassins were making things very tough for him. Killing people and being seen in green hoods to implicate him in the crimes. Even isolating him from his own team by making it impossible for him to even tell them of the ‘prophesy.’ And in Broken Arrow, when things were clearing up for Oliver, but not for the Arrow, Ra’s himself goes and mortally wounds Thea. Making it seem as though Oliver has no choice but to be the head of the League.

Oliver is all mentally twisty and screwed up by all of this, of course. And he gets darker and darker, and is just losing his mind with grief, and not finding any answers to his conundrum. And I’m just finding a real lack of imagination in the writers’ minds here. I mean, honestly, Oliver, as portrayed on The Arrow, is portrayed as something of a thug with gadgets, but the history of the character, in the DC comics continuity, he’s always been a true genius with a mission. He’s Bruce Wayne with a passion for archery instead of bats. Rich, ultra smart, and a real detective in sussing out crimes, motives, and techniques of criminals, and using that information for his own advantage. Now, although the genius part is muted in the show, I feel he still is one, if only to invent all the gadgetry he has. Now, Felicity certainly helps him refine things, but the main ideas all should be coming from his mind.

Given that, he should still have the mental capacity to figure out the way from this mess. Yet, all he does is mope and let other people do things for him. “You have to learn to let people help you.” Yes, I get that, and he should, too. [Side-bar, why does he have to learn everything twice? That lesson of learning to accept help was told in the same episode, twice. Once in ‘real’ time, and once in flashback. I’ve noticed a few other instances of this. Flashbacks are supposed to be filling the audience in about how his mental state came to be so screwed up, I get that. But lessons learned in the past SHOULD carry through in the present. Instead, he learns a lesson in flashback, forgets and relearns it again in the present. Pretty stupid, if you ask me. Those that forget the past, and all that.] But as he’s accepting the help from others, he should be scouring the web for answers of his own. That’s what I’d be doing, and I’m not claiming to be a genius, just a guy that does think things through.

Off the top, I think my main argument to Ra’s al Ghul would go thusly: “Ra’s, do you really think I’m ‘destined’ to take over. Seriously, think this through. I’ve made a commitment to NOT kill anymore, ever. So that means I can’t kill you, or the other assassins, so it makes it tougher for me to get out of this, so I have to accept it, right? But think about this. I take the mantle, and now I’m the Head of the Demon, and this League of Assassins now has to fanatically follow MY orders. Okay, my first order, ‘We don’t kill, ever.’ Pretty hard orders for assassins, right? But they have to follow them. Until they don’t. Pretty soon one of them is going to start thinking, ‘I could be in charge, we can go back to being what we are. I just have to kill him.’ And I’ll bet it won’t even take long. I pronounce my rule, and stabby stabby, I’m dead.”

“And you, old Ra’s, you started this little insurrection by picking ME as your successor. Not a good legacy, is it? You’re revered for centuries, and the next thing thought of you is, ‘And he picked THIS guy to replace him? What a tool.’ Your own daughter would kill me, and spit on your grave after. So, really are you SURE you want me?”

Of course, this doesn’t happen, so Ra’s does everything in his power, as he’s still bent on Oliver as ‘the prophesied one’, to turn Oliver back into a killer. Almost kill Thea, (Check) kill all of Team Arrow (attempted), turn the whole city so far against him so that he basically has to kill to survive (yeah, and kill the whole city, too. No need for forgiveness, there, eh?)

Well, Ron is exiled, and Thea has been stabbed pretty thoroughly. Okay, yeah, she MIGHT survive. I haven’t watched Fallen, yet. But I have to say, once Ra’s al Ghul stabs somebody, they are supposed to be dead. Pretty much his reputation rides on that. Otherwise, the whispers are back, ‘Dude, he’s getting soft, that’s two people he DIDN’T kill that he wanted dead. I think I’ll take my chances. You can next be calling me Ra’s.’

(I did have a minor theory about how he could tell Ra’s al Ghul that the Lazarus pits wouldn’t accept him, so his reign would be short. You know, if your mind is not at harmony, they reject you? And how Oliver is leading a league of killers, but doesn’t believe in killing, well, EJECT. But I looked it up, and turns out Lazarus pits are pretty non-judgmental in that regard. They just make you pretty insane for a bit. Now, if you’re healthy, they just kill you, there’s that. Oh, and if you’re already insane, they make you sane, briefly. (Joker, in one instance) But conflicting ideas, non-harmonious thoughts or whatever, no bigs, so I had to toss that idea.)

And, now, Fallen. So Thea’s back, and Oliver is Wareeth al Ghul, Heir to the Demon. Lost that gambit, didn’t he. I’m hating this show, more than ever. It’s very near driving me away from it, while still keeping me with The Flash. Talk about a twist in my soul. Sheesh.

I don’t think this was intentional, but watching in date order the two shows offers a very nice benefit. Just when the angsty dark of Arrow is about to be too much, The Flash is lighter, funner, and a real relief. Then back to the cesspool of Arrow, rinse, repeat. I am VERY glad that the seasons of both end with The Flash.

In Rogue Air, there’s a pretty bad disconnect. Ollie is back, helping Barry take down Wells. This seems way out of sync with the date order. I do know, because twitter has spoiled me in many ways, that Oliver does end up as Ra’s al Ghul, and then passes the mantle right away. But his appearance in Central City, as a good guy, (In black studded hood, mind you) seems to take place AFTER the episode that would air the day following this one. But, that’s not really true. In My Name is Oliver Queen, the favor Ollie asked Barry in Rogue Air is now being done, so the time-line is intact. Just that niggling issue of how in HELL did Ollie get time off in the middle of a wedding, and Ra’s not letting him out of his sight? That was just weak writing, they had to make things fit, and they used a shoehorn, this time.

This is part and parcel of my problem with the writers this season. I already posited my idea of how Ollie would get out of it. Yeah, I know, he survived Ra’s al Ghul’s sword, and so he’s destined, yadaa yadaa. But technically, so did Thea, and do you see anyone saying SHE’S destined? Nope, of course not, she only survived because of the Lazurus Pit. So what? The Prophesy says nothing about surviving without it, just surviving it. Writers, you’re really getting lazy, here. You ignore things that don’t fit, and force things to fit that are unwieldy. And, as it proves, out, there’s yet another person who survived the Sword of the Demon. I’m betting there are any number of them that could fulfil the prophecy. Why in hell was Ra’s so hard up on Ollie? Sounds like a man-crush.

Writers, I get that you needed a big-bad this season, but you out wrote yourselves. If you paint yourself into a corner, walk on the paint and repaint over your steps, Don’t blast a damn hole in the wall and keep painting. (You do get I’m talking the well-worn idea or ret-conning, right? Comics do it all the time. You should too, next time you start forcing things just to fit. Make something up that fixes the problem, not just add more tonnage of Band-Aid.)

The entire Ollie being forced into leadership of the Guild of Assassins was a bad idea from the start, and they never should have tried it. I mean, truly, the logical person to take over was always Bruce Wayne, he TRAINED with Ra’s himself. Heck, even Matt Murdoch did, but Ollie never did, so it honestly makes NO sense he’d be the one to take over. And the comics did try to make both Batman and Daredevil take over, at one point or another, and in all cases, was headed off with logic, not plans, fights, and what have you. This entire season was a waste of my time. And I want it back, CW, with interest.

Oh, and not for nothing, the stocking cap they have Ollie wear in the flashbacks? Really stupid idea. I get that it’s supposed to represent he has hair, and is shot when he’s got all manner of haircuts beside long and scraggly, but it looks REALLY stupid. It looks like one of the mushroom people in Marioland. Honestly, makeup and props are not winning any awards for that.

The real Speedy (and I knew Thea would be called that, instead of Arsenal or Red Arrow, as soon as she showed up in the outfit. Good to know the writers were on the same wavelength.) Her making an appearance in the Red leathers, that was a treat, and it followed a logical progression. It was a forced progression, like many of the plots this season, but this one I was delighted to see, so I’ll let it go.

Finally, marrying Nyssa so that she’s not a rival, that made some sense, if you’re Ra’s al Ghul. But I’ll say this, marrying a woman that has shown NO interest in the males of the species, does not make for a long-lasting relationship, even for State reasons. At least it’s a lock he has grounds for an annulment, as they never “fulfilled the marriage contract.” Good, that.

Now Ollie has “retired” and drove, LITERALLY, off into the sunset. If The Arrow doesn’t get renewed, it’s as good as ending as I could expect. Of course, a quick look at the news shows that it’s been renewed, so we’ll have to see how they’ll bring him back. Somehow, they’ll have to get Starling city to forgive the Arrow, otherwise, they’ll have to change the name of the show, right? I guess we’ll have to watch DC’s Legends of Tomorrow to see how Ray survives that MASSIVE explosion. And I am sort of dreading/hoping for that show. I’m really liking how light and likeable Brandon Routh is as Palmer. But I don’t really like the idea of Villains being good guys. Wentworth Miller really carries of the seedy evil demeanor, and I don’t really think I can take that every single episode. And if this show ties into The Flash, and Arrow as snugly as those last two do now, it’ll be REALLY hard to quit any one of them, if I like any other.

Looks like I lost a friend today. Not today, really. I imagine he decided he didn’t need me in his life some time ago, and I’m just noticing it now.

We’ve known each other for years, my entire adult life, really. Been through lots of ups and downs together, and had lots of ups and down separately. We were out of touch for long periods, as we only lived in the same vicinity for a couple years, early on. But those early years cemented a bond that I had thought, until now, unbreakable.

The last few years, we’ve been in pretty steady contact. I have been going through some pretty serious down times, and he’s been there to prop me up, in most ways except the actual physical act. He’s helped me maintain this website. Even though I’ve been more or less neglectful of it over the years. Calling me to remind me the fees are coming due, asking if I need any help with the hosting.

He made sure I had the basic reminders in place to get things working, and keep them working. I do have the propensity of withdrawing from life, so he’s been a steady hand in making sure I didn’t withdraw too far, or too permanently.

But a few months ago, we had a fight. It was a very passive-aggressive one, and mostly on my side. He was helping me make sure I renewed this domain before time ran out, and I was pricing options, to make sure I had the best deal for domain, hosting and all that. I had another domain I was also maintaining, just as a backup, and the prices had increased dramatically since the promotion period, so I held off on renewing that, while I explored options.

Turned out, the best option, price-wise, was to change hosting from the current provider, to the one my friend used. Of course, I didn’t have an account at the new hosting site, but my friend did, and he said I could use that to establish my own presence there.

Now, I was a bit stuck on my current provider, and I was emailing back-and-forth with them to reduce the price. I figured I could present the proposed new fee offer from the new host, and they might price-match, and I wouldn’t have to change. The deadline for the change was approaching, but I was waiting to the last minute to commit.

I thought my friend knew the deadline date, I had emailed him multiple times about the changes, and potential changes, dates included, and thought he knew. But, as it turns out, not so much.

The final day for the deal arrived, and my current host hadn’t blinked, so I had to change to the new one. I called my friend, and told him I needed to do the thing, and he wasn’t available. He did call me back some hours after my first attempted contact, and told me he was in Las Vegas for some function. He’d forgotten the deadline date, and at this point, wasn’t able to do his part. He even asked if I was sure I’d let him know the dates needed. I was.

Well, I was ticked off, frankly. He was a great friend, in all ways big and wonderful. Keeping my spirits up, my goals on track, all that. But he rarely remembered my birthday. Not that we exchanged gifts or celebrated together, but on his, I’d send an email, call, or text, anyway. He didn’t, and if reminded I had just had a birthday, he’d say “Oh, right. Cool.” If I had a big day coming up, an anniversary of something, new job interview, or proposal that he didn’t have anything to do with, he’d only acknowledge it if I brought it up.

Little things, he let go past. Big things, he was there for, if he knew he could help, he did, and I’ll never fault him for that. But the little things that make a friendship seem comfortable, really, so that you know you’re not being taken for granted, those he tended to ignore.

It was a bit frustrating, to feel more like a project than a buddy, and I just let it go, for the most part. I really care about this guy, and always wanted the best for him. I think of him daily, in fact, and have for ages. Even when we were both living our lives, far apart physically and temporally, I thought of him, and wondered what was going on in his life.

Oh, man, I missed stuff, to be sure. I took the glowing memory of him for granted for a long time. He went through some REALLY dark periods I knew nothing about. He’s a pretty light natured person, really, so he didn’t bring stuff up that he didn’t like thinking about, with me, often. And even after I learned of those things, I just assumed he’d gotten over them. And in some cases, I was wrong, and it was tough admitting I’d failed him as a friend over these times.

And these things were running in my head when he told me he’d forgotten, again. That’s how I thought of it, he’d forgotten something important to me, again. True, it doesn’t affect him, and he might even think it’s unnecessary that I do this thing, but that doesn’t mean he should exercise a “pocket veto” and use the excuse of forgetting.

I was pissed. I texted him that he’d disappointed me for the last time, and we were done.  And I meant that, at the time. I was really, REALLY, pissed.

And a couple months passed. Christmas came up, and I sent him a Google+ thingy saying “it’s the time or forgiveness, right?” and said I was sorry. No response. Didn’t really expect any. He had his family, and Christmas is for them, for sure. He might even be out of the country, as he does that, often.

But I still hadn’t heard anything for a month or more, after. I didn’t really think anything of it, as we’d gone long months, even years without contact before. But a few weeks, ago,  I thought to send a direct message to him via twitter, and I found I couldn’t. He didn’t follow me, any longer. It was some anniversary for us, and thought it’d be nice to say hi, again. But I couldn’t. I figured he’d cleared out his follower list of idle twitterers, as you do, and I fell into that category. I was not really active on twitter for some time.

But then I saw him posting a tweet about a current episode of his podcast, and I sent an @  reply asking “is this thing still on” not expecting anything immediately. I mean, that’s an auto-tweet from his blog, I didn’t expect him to be on twitter at that moment. He wasn’t an active tweeter, really. Just used twitter for marketing, and such.

Today, though, I noticed the number of people I follow had gone down one.  Now, I had had an epic twitter argument the day before (see the post below) and found it likely that I’d been blocked by the participant in this argument, but that wasn’t the case. I didn’t go through my list of followers in detail, because I had an instinct, and decided to check that, first.

And instincts proved accurate, this time. I went to his twitter page, and was informed I couldn’t see his tweets because I’m blocked. Hmm. Well, seems like he did unfollow on purpose, and now, took it to the next level and completely blocked me.

I guess he’s pissed too, and too pissed to tell me why. I can imagine a whole lot of reasons, of course, but mind-reading is not really the best way to figure out the solution to fixing the issue. Truth is, there might be no solution. He might have simply given up on me, finally. I mean, I’d given up on myself ages ago, and he’s just finally climbing on board.

It must have been a bit tough for him to actively give up, though. Passively is easy, everyone does that at some point, often even. Just don’t email someone for a while, or call them, sent a carrier-pigeon, whatever. (Actually, that last would be tougher. I mean, you have a pigeon-friend relationship, and I guess you’d just keep the other person’s pigeons and if he comes by to pick them from their coop, you’d hide them. A whole lot of work.) But you just stop maintaining contact, and that’s it. Things fall away.

But this was active, to think, “Yep, I don’t want to hear from him, anymore. At all.” and block me on twitter. Next step would be to not answer the phone and let it go straight to voicemail (check), and after that?

Well, I had this book, “Making Out in Japanese” it was phrase book for uncommon dating phrases. One of my favorites, (that I never did use) was “I don’t love you any longer, so I’m changing my phone number.” My friend and I laughed at that one numerous times. But that’s the next step. (Although in modern times, he can just block my number, I suppose. Less romantic, but he can keep his phone number, then.)

Seems like I blew something else. Like I’ve blown a lot. I’m sorry I lost this one though. Lifelong friends like that are rare, and precious. Odds are way against finding another.

I suppose I should also remove him from my resume references. *sigh*

I’ve received a few confused comments about why a Christmas story is posted with this title. It’s simple, really. I entered a writing contest in which the submission guidelines were to send in “the most romantic story you know, can think up or write.” And the submission title had to be what you see as the title of this post.  After writing it, I sent it to my good friend Yoopersmith, so that I could get some feedback, in case I didn’t win. [I didn’t] He’s the one that decided it was “Too good to hang out in my email.” and posted it here, for me. and I thank him for providing the bravery that I lacked.

Many years ago, my girlfriend and I were out, in early November, shopping for the Christmas season. She was a delightful combination of mature sensibilities and childlike enthusiasm.  I believed I knew her better than she knew herself, as much as any man can know a woman.  And I loved that girl enough to lose her over something trivial, as it turns out.  If that makes no sense, then let me explain.

As we walked the halls of the local mall, we passed one of the seasonal-only shops, and looking inside, we saw special toys: Christmas themed, romance themed, plush toys, and all manner of items from international cultures. On one shelf was a whole collection of Matryoshka dolls.  The Nesting dolls of Russian persuasion.  Shawna was immediately delighted by this discovery and promptly ran in to look at each and every one that they had.  She pulled each apart, and was delighted anew at each doll, smaller than the last, till she got to the tiniest one in the middle.  She did this with all 7 sets they had on the shelf.  She continued to look at them, and weigh the merits of each, trying to determine her favorite, because she knew she had to have at least one set.

It finally came down to two sets. One with black-painted head scarves, and one with red-painted head scarves, and she had an animated debate with herself, with me, and with any passers-by handy to try and figure out which was the most deserving of her affection.

Now, I had thought of something that she hadn’t, yet. She had forgotten her checkbook at home.  This was something she did often enough, but it was rarely of issue because we were both frugal college students, and didn’t spend more than the cash on hand, usually.  Plus, I was the boyfriend, so I was always there with my wallet.  But Shawna never thought of that as she looked longingly on the dolls, and she wouldn’t until she made her decision.  As I said, though, I knew this, and so I formed a plan.

I sidled away from her and her debate, and pretended I wanted to look at the other displays, in what I hoped look like stereotypical-bored-boyfriend fashion. I steadily made my way to the service desk, and spoke to the lady there.  I told her, “Soon, she’ll make a decision about her favorite one, but she won’t be able to pay for it, now, and will instead come back tomorrow to get it, and will ask you to hold it for her. I would like you to, instead, hold it for me, and I’ll give you a deposit for it.  As soon as she makes her choice, please take it off the shelf, and I’ll pick it up in a couple days.”  You see, they did have a prominent sign that said no holds were possible without a deposit, and even though my Shawna was almost impossible to resist when she tried to convince someone to do her a favor, I implored on the shop girl to stand fast with the policy, which should be easy, since I had already left a deposit.

I figured this would be the best Christmas gift I could possibly get for her. I knew she’d love it, and if I could keep the surprise from her for the next month.  This was a girl that LOVED a surprise, more than just about anything, but it was in her nature to learn all secrets around her, so pulling off a surprise was next to impossible.  But if I could carry it off, it had the potential to be the best gift, ever.  I also knew I would not be able to do this alone. I had already recruited the shop girl, and I would need help to pull it off.  But first, I had to do a bit of fibbing to her.

Shawna finally pronounced her love for the red-scarved dolls, and even started to name each one.  Then she started looking for her checkbook, and realizing she lacked it, turned to me to ask if I had mine, and would I loan her the deposit amount.  I deferred, saying I failed to bring mine along, and lacked more than 10 dollars in cash.  I reminded her that she could come back and get it later, and reminded of her own personal maxim.  She never buys anything when she first sees it, and instead comes back later, and if it’s still there, then it is meant to be, and if it is not, then it was not, and to accept the fate, either way.  She looked frustrated, but admitted that it was her policy, and would live by it. With a longing look at her chosen favorite, we left the shop and went about the rest of our outing. Truthfully, it didn’t last much longer, a stop at Orange Julius and a trip home. Both of us had homework to do, as it was the middle of the week.

As I dropped her off at her home, I pulled her grandmother aside to tell her of my plan.  Shawna lived with her Grandmother, for various reasons, and she was a strict lady, and didn’t entirely approve of me.  I was 8 years older than Shawna, having served in the military before going to college, and I believed more in personal freedom, whereas Patty was more on the strict do-as-you’re-told school of thought.  I thought that adding Patty to the gift conspiracy might help us bridge that difficulty, and even if it didn’t, if it was for Shawna, Patty would help.  Then I headed home, myself.

As soon as I got home, I started firming up the plans.  I thought I had at least a day to make things happen, but I wanted to hurry and put things in place.  I called the Shop to make sure the doll had been pulled, and it had been, I told them I’d be by to pick it up in two days.  I told my mother, who I lived with, the plan as well.  She was notoriously bad at keeping a secret if she stumbled onto it, but wonderful at keeping one if told from the start, so it was just safer to include her.  I also called Shawna’s mother, who was in her life, and visited often with Shawna’s little brother. And she told the brother. He was only 7, but wily in secrets, as it turns out.

The first bout of bad news came mere hours after I returned home.  I received a call from Patty, who had never called me previously, “Rick, I can’t speak long, Shawna is still outside, but will be in, soon..  She couldn’t wait till tomorrow, and made me drive her to the mall.  When she saw her favorite gone, she lost it, and hasn’t stopped crying since, except to curse you for convincing her to wait. I have to go.” And hung up. Not even a minute later, Shawna called me, and told me how the red-scarved doll was gone.  How she felt betrayed by me, how I’d ruined things, and how mad she was.  She should have never listened to me, and how she doesn’t think she can ever trust what I have to say again. I didn’t ask about the Black-scarved one.  I knew that though she had a difficult time choosing between them, as soon as she made her choice, it was all or nothing.  The second-best was just that, and she never settled for second. Besides, if she DID go after the second choice, my gift would be meaningless.

It was a tough conversation.  I very nearly broke down and told her right then, that she hadn’t lost it after all. But two things kept me from spilling. First, I’m stubborn, and once I set my mind to something, I don’t back down.  But even more importantly, I couldn’t figure out how to tell her and not confirm that I had been lying the whole time.  I seemed like a losing proposition, no matter what I did.  So I listened to, and accepted, all the recriminations, accusations, and vilifications coming from the woman I loved, for quite a bit longer than you might expect.  She came very close to breaking up with me, over the phone, because of this, and still ended the conversation with, “I’ll never trust you, ever again.” Man, did that hurt. But I stuck it out, and was grateful to have made it through my first Hurricane Shawna.

It had been daylight still, when she called, but as I hung up the phone, spent emotionally, it was long after dark.  I spent the night restlessly trying to sleep. The next few days and weeks were spent alternately enjoying myself with, and hating, the present. There was finding the right wrapping paper, and the materials to wrap it in.  I had decided to make a nesting doll of the wrappings, as well.  Sort of an inside joke, or meta gift.  I found some green colored bubble wrap to put around the doll, and a beautiful blue Lucite box with a fitted lid, that the doll, with bubble wrap, could fit inside.  Then I wrapped that in butcher paper, and placed that inside a shoe box from a ballet supply company (Shawna was a Ballet teacher), and that inside another box, and filled the empty space with lots of foam peanuts, which I found a supply of in many colors.  Then I wrapped it as beautifully as I could and tied my own bow, using instructions I got from a book in the library. (This was in the early days of the internet, and long before YouTube, so books were still the primary resource to most.)  Then I took it over to place under the tree as Shawna’s house.

On the other hand was my girlfriend’s continuing smoldering resentment of my perceived betrayal.  Small things would cause arguments now, and I was as unhappy as I’d ever been.  I got regular updates from Patty about how Shawna still spoke badly about me to her. (I think a little joyfully, Patty would love having Shawna back to herself, alone, I thought.)  Shawn’s little brother would gleefully inform me that he had not broken, things were still secret, completely unaware of the clouds this present were causing.  (I wished I were as innocent as he was, all the time, then.)  Shawna’s mother would give me sympathetic nods on occasion, seeming to say, “I know what it’s like, living with her anger. Good luck.” It was just rough.

Christmas came, and I remember waking up that morning thinking this stubborn streak of mine was probably going to kill me someday, perhaps in just a few hours.  What if she didn’t get that I did it for love, that I knew she loves surprises more than just about anything, and that the only reason I’d ever lie to her was to make the surprise possible.  If she just focused on the lies, I was in for a very bad day.  If she just felt betrayed, and that she had been put through the emotional wringer for just a doll, of all things, she might never forgive me. I didn’t chicken out, though.  I drove over to her house, sat through the brunch, and then sat in my spot, across the room from Shawna, as we’d done, a lot, lately.  Little bro was playing Santa, and handed out the gifts, loudly announcing who they were from as he handed them to the recipient.

He knew which was mine, and saved it for last.  In my mind, I was thinking he was just being vicious, as the wait was killing me, but in retrospect, I know it was just he wanted the fun factor at its highest when she opened it.  The kid had an innate sense of suspense.

Shawna politely commented on the pretty wrapping job, even saved the ribbon to the side, for one of her scrap books, I think.  Then she wondered why I’d get her a toaster oven, before opening that and finding the next box.  Then she seemed mildly intrigued that I got her new ballet slippers, but on opening that, found the blue Lucite container. She marveled at how pretty it was and that she could use it for any number of knickknacks.  Then she noticed there was something darker inside that box, and opening that, saw the green bubble wrap around something distinctly roundish. And her eyes started getting quite large, and her breath came in very short, sharp bursts, and she ripped that bubble wrap off the doll so fast, it could hardly be believed.  And there was a single gasp from her, and suddenly, from 8 feet away, she vaulted into my arms, and hugged me so hard my ribs creaked. The room gave a collective sigh as all the tension just melted away, and there was open weeping from all the adults in the room as all was forgiven, in that instant. Best, scariest, Christmas ever.