SELFISH KINDNESS.

SELFISH KINDNESS.

On the topic of love languages I think I fall pretty firmly in the quality time segment, which is arguably the least self indulgent of the five. It's the one that doesn't ask for much, perhaps a potential meal and a glass of pinot, or more honestly a handle of whatever you're drinking because it wants to keep up that low maintenance appearance that it associates your incomprehensible attraction with. It asks for a simple conversation about the irrational grief you feel for accidentally cutting in line during self checkout at the local market, to which all it requires is a basic giggle at its ridiculousness. Maybe it'll take it personally when you pick up your phone one time too often during a particularly relevant point of exchange, but you know what it entails for it to let that go, quality time. Conceivably the most self-unassured of the bunch - merely acclaiming your company as reassurance that, no, it's not alone in this world.

Gift giving is seemingly the opposite, requiring a physical token as evidence of love whenever at a loss, which in no way issues it as demanding or only elevated in maintenance. It's possible they've grown up surrounded, to a point where it no longer seems an expression of adoration or maybe that's not as easily digestible as something so personally dedicated. It does, however, possess the most selfish yet evidently benevolent means of kindness. 

You see, gifting is admittedly equally about the receiver as it is about the gifter - when I dish out an average of a clean $100 bill to all receivers (read: all my money) during the holiday season, it's, not lyingly, often more about me than them. Of course the people being bought for are considered in the process, most obviously throughout deliberation pertaining to what gift is actually bought, and the extent of such is often large enough to hide the underlying selfishness to even yourself, because hello Dad - you're never going to be an easy person to gift. 

I will admit my hatred for receiving gifts, at the risk of sounding ungrateful, because, as a quality time only necessitater, the thought of sitting across from someone who has put in immense effort to appear thoughtful, considerate and more appropriately better than me, who requires the perfect level of surprise and appreciation upon opening or chance seeming the complete opposite, put simply; was more than enough for me to issue a 'no gifts for Nicole' policy this year. 

My most recent experience with such involves an incredibly kind and undeserved friend (see her here) who, going above and beyond, has landed a firm position in the A+ friend category. Upon seeing photographed evidence of my forthcoming exhaustion of a staple in my personal makeup application, surprised me with a replacement for my Hourglass Ambient Lighting Powder in Dim. When I say surprised, I do so with genuine sincerity because never in my wildest dreams am I presented with such an unsuspectingly thoughtful and unjustified cadeaux - to which my overbearing response is guilt.

Of course I appreciate it because how, in any way, could I not? I'm yet to return the gesture with my own exchange, therefore validating the guilt.

I don't doubt the benignity because I'm not a monster, though if the level of selfishness that exists when I am the gifter remains not exclusive to me, is the subsequent guilt from a receiver welcomed as the very red, juicy and delicious cherry on top?