Diamonds are great and all, but come on, there are so many things I can think of that I'd rather get from a man than some diamond earrings which might get lost or stolen or whatever. I mean yes, I love diamonds (Who doesn't?) and if a guy bought me a diamond necklace, then yes I would love it dearly. But honestly, if you show up at my door with a box of stuffed crust cheese pizza, I will seriously love you forever. I don't need to be bought; its actually a huge turnoff for me when a man tries to buy my affection with money or things. To be honest, I'm not really a materialistic girl. I don't want him to take me out to a fancy restaurant, nor do I want to have to order things I can barely pronounce, let alone swallow. I'd much rather we just cuddled together on the couch at his place or mine, eating pizza and watching a movie. That way I don't have to spend half my paycheck on a dress for the occasion, and it's much easier to hook up if we're already on a couch. I don't want to spend the weekend at a luxury hotel in a room that countless people have been in, doing who knows what. I don't want to have to worry if the people in the room next to us think we're too loud. Instead, I'd rather just crash at his place or mine, I'll serve him breakfast in bed (because seriously, even if the bacon is too crispy, it's way sweeter than paying for room service), and when we hook up, I can be as loud as I want to because I know his neighbors, and I know mine, and they don't give two tacos about what's going on in the house next to theirs. I don't want him to buy me expensive orchids, or cali-lilies; if he simply must buy me flowers, it should be the three dollar bouquet of roses from the shelf at Walmart, and instead of a generic card, scribble a few heartfelt words on a sheet of notebook paper. The cut flowers are going to die anyway.
I like things that are heartfelt and sincere. I'd rather he spend an hour trying to figure out the instructions on a box Kraft macaroni and cheese, instead of paying big bucks for me to attempt to eat Rhône-Alpes and Escargots. Sleeping in a hotel makes me feel like there's something at his place he's trying to hide, and I always get creeped out thinking about how many people have slept in that bed before me. I would much rather have a handful of daisies he secretly picked at the local park even though he knew he wasn't supposed to, than a generic flower bouquet that the woman working at the flower shop assured him I would love. I'd rather walk hand in hand at a local park eating ice cream cones that cost a dollar, than sit on the balcony of some prestigious venue being served creme brulé. I don't want him to buy costly tickets for us to see an opera, sung in some language neither of us understands, during which we'll both sit bored out of our minds waiting until we can rip off our uncomfortable formal clothes and begin the actual date. I'd much rather cuddle in bed watching a movie we both love, with no clothes to worry about in the first place.
It's not that I don't appreciate the thought behind whatever ridiculously pricey thing he does. I mean if he takes me to a five star hotel for the weekend, maybe he thinks his place isn't good enough for me. Maybe he wants to pamper me in a way he thinks I would want to be. Maybe he thinks that I would rather eat some fancy french food than the slightly burnt spaghetti at his house. If a guy does do some horribly expensive generic gesture for me, I do appreciate it. But I always let him know that it's not necessary.
I don't want diamonds. I just want him.
C'est La Vie.
Viva La Vida.
And Fuck the System.