Okay, so who is the jerkface who decided that after ten years of marriage I deserve a gift made of tin? If we’re going to publish official gift-giving guides for people who have been married for ten years, maybe we can do better than tin? Because I would rather he give me flowers than give me, like, tin flowers. In fact, the thing I primarily associate with tin was that scene at the drive-in when Danny gets a little fresh with Sandy and she rips his ring off of her finger and throws it at him, declaring it “a piece of tin!” It could be in the best interests of the tin industry to help us think more positively about it.
I don’t even know what qualifies as a gift of. A pyramid of empty beer cans? He doesn’t even drink beer, so gifting that to me would mean that over enough time I drank a pyramid’s worth of beer and then he gifts me those empty cans right back. I’m not sure how appreciative I would be. I think I’d be like, “try harder, dude. I expected more from my fraternity boyfriend from twenty years ago on our one month-aversary”. But wait–I guess beer cans are made of aluminum. Is aluminum the same as tin? What a vague metal.
Maybe he’d buy me a tin shed for storing our yardwork tools, thereby keeping the backyard in clean shape for all the backyard soirees we never host. But that’s a big maybe. Because I stayed in love with him for THIS long just for him to “gift” me a clean backyard? I don’t think so. You know what I think about tin anniversary gifts? Mostly expletives, gotta be honest.
I can’t speak for all of womankind, but I am telling you that flowers (not tin flowers) would go a long way. LONG WAY. The day I come home to some gorgeous tulips is the day he’ll enjoy multiple sessions of things which are not fit for print here. A tennis bracelet is not a bad 10 year anniversary idea either. That should result in some similarly unpublishable scenarios.
Tin, though. Oy. Tin. Tin? Well, whatever. Happy 10th Anniversary, Snookums. xo