Anyway, I had made all these likes and dislikes perfectly clear from the get-go because I figured this whole dating-business-dudes would translate to plenty of baubles, bangles and beads for the Geesub.  So what does this clod get me for x-mas?  He gets me a yellow gold watch with a mother-of-pearl face and diamond numerals.  It was a really ugly, tacky watch -- the kind of ostentatious monstrosity that an insecure guy thinks will dazzle his 19-year old squeeze. More important, it failed on all three of my jewelry criteria.  Since I was an impressionable twit, I had convinced my stupid self that I was in love with this jackass (I fell in love four or five times a year back then), so I experienced the outsized hurt of realizing ol' Beedub DOESN'T LISTEN TO ME!   (My all-consuming love aside, I also had the venal, whorish realization that all of the annoyances and inconveniences -- I won't elaborate -- of dating a much older business dude were not paying off in the currency of my realm.)   But I had to pretend to be as pleased as he obviously felt I should be, which was difficult under the circs.   The moral of this story, beside the fact that May-December romances are fraught with disillusionment, is that you can give gifts that you like, in which case the recipient might think you're a self-absorbed jerk, OR you can give gifts that you know the recipient likes, in which case you'd better have been listening to their tiresome twaddle or you won't know what the fuck that is.