Valentine’s Day got me thinking about gestures. My friend M. is incredibly anti-relationship and is smack in the middle of her first real go at it. Her boyfriend is the personal assistant to a famous photographer and he works a lot, so in honor of VD she told me they were doing “meatballs and sex” on the following Tuesday. I thought this was hilarious and perfect. Good, hearty food and a fun activity to burn off those calories. But most importantly it was something that is so very them, and so very not cliché and laden with red hearts and chocolates.
The LDC made a gesture. A small one. But it meant everything to me. It had nothing to do with Valentine’s Day (he called me on Sunday but the word “Valentine” never even crossed his lips), but it was sweet and perfect. I’m starting a food blog and when I asked him if he knew anything about how to create web banners using Photoshop, he answered, “Is that your not-so-subtle way of asking me to help you?” It really wasn’t, though. I just thought he might have some tips. The conversation went no further because I had to go but when I checked my e-mail late that same night he had sent me something. An attachment.
“I'm waiting for IT to fix this file I'm working on so I threw this together... I dunno, it's ok, maybe we should do something different.” Attached to the e-mail was a logo. It was good… it was so good. I loved it. But most of all I loved the fact that he designed something for me. He thought about it, he wanted to help, and even though he prefaced with “I had time to kill,” he spent his time on it. And he kept spending time on it until it was exactly what I wanted.
The last and final version arrived in my e-mail two days ago. I was out when he sent it so he texted: Check your e-mail! When I finally got home I let him know and he replied completely out of character: I hope you like the logo. Sometimes it takes flowers and chocolates for women to know men care. For me, all it took was a little expended hope.