Oh, honey. We need to talk about Christmas gifts. Because there are “bad gifts,” like a vacuum cleaner or a gym membership. And then there are “call off the wedding, light the relationship on fire, and salt the earth” gifts. This, my friends, is a story about the second one.
Our narrator is a 26-year-old Black woman who is, or at least was, engaged to a 27-year-old white man named “Dave.” Dave works in tech, which is a fact that will become painfully relevant in a moment.
Dave got a huge bonus this year and promised to “go all out” for her, to make up for past Christmases when money was tight. A sweet, romantic gesture, right? She, being a normal, reasonable human, told him exactly what she wanted: a popular, $200 fuzzy bag. An attainable, specific, and easy-to-buy gift.
So, they’re at his family’s house for Christmas Eve. Gifts are being exchanged. One sister-in-law gets a fur coat. Another gets an air fryer she really wanted. All normal, lovely, “I-listened-to-you” presents.
Then, it’s her turn. Dave hands her… his phone. She, thinking he’s a modern man, assumes she’s about to see a tracking page for her fuzzy bag. Oh, how wrong she was. Oh, how innocent she was in that moment, just seconds before her entire life imploded.
Because it wasn’t a tracking page. It was “an art picture of a monkey that was suppose to look like me.”
I just… I need a minute. A monkey. To look like her. A Black woman. I am physically recoiling. This is not a “whoops” gift. This is a five-alarm, r@cist-as-hell, “what-is-wrong-with-you” disaster.
But wait, it gets so much worse. He is proud of this. He explains that this is her gift! He’s been “investing” this year and “saved up” to buy this for her. He shows his family, who are “flabbergasted.” She asks the only question that matters: “How much?”
He says $8,000.
Eight. Thousand. Dollars. Not on the $200 bag she actually wanted, but on a r@cist monkey picture. This is, without a doubt, the stupidest and most offensive use of money I have ever heard of.
The family, at this point, starts laughing. They are laughing at the sheer, pants-on-head absurdity of it all. And then his own brother has to step in and point out the obvious, galaxy-brained r@cism: “how it was poor in taste to give a monkey picture to your Black fiancee.”
And what does Dave do? Does he apologize? Does he melt into a puddle of shame? No. He gets mad. At her. He asks her if she’s “ever going to defend him.” Defend him from what?! His own horrifying, r@cist, financially idiotic decision?
The narrator, who is the only sane person in this story, does the only thing she can. She gets up, locks herself in the bathroom for a good cry, and then calls an Uber to a hotel. A queen’s exit.
And Dave? Dave, the tech-bro “investor,” calls her. Not to beg for forgiveness. Not to say, “Oh my god, I am the most r@cist, clueless idiot on the planet.” No. He calls her to say she’s the ahole. To say she “bring down the mood” and is “materialistic.”
Materialistic! For wanting the $200 actual gift she asked for, instead of the $8,000 “investment” he wanted. He says she “just couldn’t see his vision.” Oh, we see the vision, Dave. And the vision is selfish, wildly stupid, and has a whole lot of unexamined r@cism.
She is not the ahole. She is a saint for only booking a hotel and not an immediate flight to a new country to change her identity. He didn’t give her a gift; he gave her a giant, waving, $8,000 red flag.
This gets the Olympic Gold Medal for insensitivity. I hope this was a permanent exit from this relationship because he showed his true self and there is no reversing that revelation . Why would you even think this would be the last time he belittled you to make himself feel superior? Next might be giving you a bunch of bananas.If this is his “vision” he needs to hear from you that your vision of him is in your rear view mirror.