Re: Cat C/Jack P
Let's start by saying I attempted to be capable at one point, and while she gave pointed instructions (why do bloody shoes with a red sole cost more than any other shoe? Does it have magical properties?) I thought I'd get her something I thought up myself. She was an architect. Went to one of those bloody fancy schools for years, brought home those little models of buildings with plastic people. When we first met, when she first took me home to meet the parents, sorry day of it that was, I took her to the old place. God knows why. It hadn't been ours - mine - for two decades. It was old, the kind of building you didn't get mice, you got fuck-off rats, where it had been built on and built on with generations. And christ alone knew why she liked it, but she did. Asked the caretaker god knows how many questions about how it had been built out, who by. The classic architect. So for the Christmas after that, I dug out the name - fancy fucking ancient architect she had studied at uni and bought copies of the original plans, with all the notes in the margins, all that shit. Framed them, along with hers. Moral of the story? Always buy a woman what's on the list she gives you.
The carefully cultivated one? That implies not bothering to dig an iota.