Tales from Lonesome George

Never Gift a Woman a Bidet

Recently while drifting along in the saddle letting Ol’ Buck lead the way and, pondering my solitary relationship status an incident floated back into my mind that could have had a bearing on my present lonely romantic state.


We had just ordered lunch, Bridget and I during our annual Christmas lunch, Bridget by the way is a friend and associate of many years from my day job and I look upon her as one would a baby sister. As I was saying we’d just ordered lunch and as the waiter vanished into the crowded house, she asked me what I was getting the Cajun Queen for Christmas. Well, I said first I’m getting her a copy of the movie from Jack London’s book, Call of the Wild. She once told me it was her favorite movie as a little girl.


This was only my first mistake this particular annum, later in fact much later, too late actually, I realized that another friend also a female that I’d once worked alongside had told me it was her favorite book as a child. Imagine my puzzlement when the Cajun Queen unwrapped the gift and looked at it with such a blank expression on her lovely face. She’d never even heard of it.


It’s probably no secret to most that when it comes to women and romance, I more often decide wrong than right. Bridget had noticed this over the years and often offered up sound relationship advice which I more or less regularly discarded for what I firmly felt at the time was the right course of action.


“OK, that’s nice said Bridget back at the lunch table, what else?”


I smiled rather broadly as I knew what was about to leave my mouth would be considered the coup de grass of Christmas presents, a luxury not found in most households but only in the finest water closets of Europe and the finer hotels on our own continent; “A bidet” I said with a smile.


Bridget stared straight into my face, more of a disdainful glare than a stare “What?! Are you saying she’s got a dirty ass? You don’t give any woman a bidet.”


Let me explain! you see the Cajun Queen’s job required her to travel often, and one time she stayed in a fancy, old world hotel in New Orleans. She’d sent me photos of the cityscape at night, and in the bathroom was a bidet.


“But that doesn’t mean you give her one as a Christmas present, are you insane?” But I protested while staying in a luxury high dollar hotel she sent me a picture of one they had in the bathroom!


“What on earth makes you think she wants one?”
“It’s a luxury item I cried, everyone would want one, I don’t know why they don’t build them into new homes.”
“That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had, I guarantee you if you give her that she’s going to take it as an insult, like you’re telling her she’s dirty. You better get her something else, do not give that poor woman a bidet.”


But it’s so close to Christmas already, there’s no time to order anything.
“Have you ever heard of the mall? It’s a place with stores and you can buy something nice, they’ll even wrap it up for you…go to a jewelry store for God’s sake. You’re stupid!”

By this time our appetizers were arriving and the waiter’s questions and remarks whatever they were, were unknown to me as by now I was deep in thought and a bit of somewhat questionable doubt… ‘but it’s a luxury item, I told myself. “


“She likes off the wall thoughtful gifts I said, noting the Christmas before I’d given her a nice set of screwdrivers,” as the Cajun Queen is quite independent and handy around the house for a woman.


“Are you serious? You’re a moron, a dumb stupid man if you give her a damn bidet.”


The big day came and the lovely Cajun Queen and I exchanged our gifts and as mentioned earlier, the Call of the Wild movie was a complete mystery for her and as a gift a 100% disappointment, I wouldn’t be surprised if I learned she later threw it off a bridge. But I had high hopes as she began to tear at the larger package which contained the prized hot and cold-water appliance, and soon enough the smile on her face changed to yet another blank expression.


She pawed at the box a minute, turning it every which way to be sure it didn’t contain something apropos, a pearl necklace, a ring, earrings or all three and when she’d satisfied herself that in fact I had gifted her an actual bidet she looked up at me and said “are you saying I got a dirty ass?”


Wobbled I went into my ‘luxury appliance’ explanation and why I thought it was a fantastic gift and how she’d sent the photo from the hotel ad infinitum to flaccid results. Gamely she took it home and actually had plumbers try to install it, but the water lines in her bathroom were not in a position to facilitate its installation. She brought it back to me in the box, and with a long face, I sent it on back to Amazon.


It seemed to be the beginning of the final end of her visits to see me and brighten my days and here I sit recounting this now from a cold barn, Ol’ Buck back in his stall munching on hay, and I headed to an empty house to settle in for another lonesome evening.


Alas, you fellows always remember this sage advice: Never gift a woman a bidet.

Written by Lonesome George

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