I’m beginning to wonder if I’m hell’s official bricklayer, because by now I’ve paved a remarkable number of roads leading there with all my good intentions.
Several months ago my boyfriend Mike’s best friend, Trusty, (who you may remember from Honey I Shrunk The Beef: An Unvitation and Subsequent Re-Invitation to a Traditional Irish Dinner) let me in a surprise that he had planned for Mike’s birthday; Trusty had purchased two tickets to the event of the summer: an Aerosmith concert.
Now, unless you’re Liv Tyler, you’re probably rolling your eyes, because even though hitting the high note in “Dream On” never gets old, I’d estimate there are probably only about 400 people in the entire world who still proudly call themselves Aerosmith fans. But back in the day, Mike and Trusty went to an Aerosmith concert, and it was the first real concert my boyfriend ever attended. So yeah, it’s Aerosmith, but the sentimental value actually turned it into a thoughtful birthday gift against all odds.
The concert was on July 25th, the day after my boyfriend’s birthday. Trusty informed me of the surprise so I could ensure Mike took the day off work and didn’t make any plans that evening. I should mention that the strangest part about this “surprise” was that Mike and I already heard all about the Aerosmith concert, from Trusty. Instead of working an Aerosmith reference into normal conversation like every other surprise-planning person has done in the history of surprise planning (gun control, Janie’s Got a Gun, Aerosmith), Trusty asked Mike specifically if he wanted to go, and in turn, Mike gauged my interest in the concert, too. By no means would attending the concert be a genuine surprise to Mike, because it was already on his radar.
I got the impression early on that this gift was more about Trusty than it was about Mike. Sure, it was the first concert my boyfriend attended, and it’s a cool way to reminisce about old times by repeating history, but I’m pretty sure my boyfriend stopped being an Aerosmith fan twenty years ago when everyone else did. Even though both tickets were allegedly a gift, it became pretty clear that Trusty wanted to go to the concert with Mike like old times. Now, I’ve never been the type of person who wants to steal her boyfriend away from his friends, so I totally supported the guys going to the concert together. Since Trusty is married and has two little girls, I thought it would be nice for him and Mike to have a night out like they did when they were younger. I emphatically assured Trusty he should go to the concert with Mike, and promised him I wouldn’t ruin the surprise—which was the first of many damnable lies I told throughout this entire predicament. I promptly told my boyfriend all about Trusty’s big surprise the very same evening.
If it helps, I didn’t pinky promise, so the vow wasn’t exactly sacrosanct.
I probably should have kept the definitive status of the tickets to myself, but I knew this big surprise wasn’t one Mike would be that excited about, because he really didn’t want to go to the concert in the first place. The Aerosmith concert was one of those events that Mike would endure if someone else was really looking forward to it, but he wouldn’t have chosen to go of his own volition. If I didn’t ruin Trusty’s surprise like I did and Trusty sprung it on Mike the day before the concert, Mike’s reaction would probably have hurt Trusty’s feelings. I love Mike dearly, but his bedside manner in reacting to disappointing news, like an upcoming Aerosmith event for instance, leaves something to be desired (that’s usually where I come in). I knew Mike would need ample time to fully accept the fact he’d be seeing Aerosmith with Trusty and a mass of undesirable groupies with Aerosmith tattoos and cigarette breath.
Predictably, Mike was blasé about attending the concert, but he accepted it, and pretty soon it was July 20th—just four days before Mike’s birthday and five days before he’d be in the esteemed presence of Steven Tyler.
The morning of July 20th, I received a text from Trusty that read:
I was actually with Mike when I received the text, and he encouraged me to call Trusty and get it over with. Trusty’s calls tend to run long, especially since the process of saying goodbye can take anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes.
“I can’t call him with you here! It’s probably about the concert.”
“You already ruined the surprise. Now you have scruples?”
He had a point, but I still waited until later when I was alone in my car outside his apartment. In his usual fashion, Trusty droned in about everything going on his life before getting to the true purpose of the call.
“Do you think he’ll like the concert? I know we’re older and going to stuff like that isn’t the same as when we were younger…”
I knew the real truth was that NO! MIKE DOES NOT REALLY WANT TO GO, BUT HE’S GOING TO A BE GOOD FRIEND AND DO IT FOR YOU FOR OLD TIME’S SAKE! But I had to think of Trusty’s feelings, so I laid my reassurances on pretty thick—perhaps too thick.
“I think he’ll really like it! He told me that was his first concert, and that he had a lot of fun. I think it’ll really be a good time!”
“Yeah, well, y’knoooow, I hope so. The tickets were $200, and that’s more than I’d usually spend on a gift…”
The idealist in me was beaming at the thought of someone going above and beyond to get their best friend a well-intentioned (but somewhat mediocre) gift, the pessimist in me was aghast at the prospect of spending $200 on two Aerosmith tickets, but most importantly the realist in me saw this phone call for what it truly was: HE WANTS MONEY!!!!!!!!! THIS IS A SHAKEDOWN. I didn’t have the chance to say anything before the truth came out:
“I don’t know if you got him a gift or anything yet, but if you wanted to chip in for the tickets, we could do that… That would help a lot…”
WHOA. WHOA. WHOA. WHAT?
First of all, of course I got him a gift, we’ve been dating for two years, and we’re still firmly in the giving-each-other-gifts phase of our relationship. Also, when you haven’t gotten someone a birthday gift, it’s on you to approach another gift-giver with an offer to chip in on something they already bought on their own. The chip-in gift rules are firm:
GUIDELINES FOR CHIP-IN GIFTING
1.) It its acceptable for two (or more) giftless vagabonds to join forces and agree to contribute an agreed-upon sum for a larger, joint gift. The specifics of how much will be paid and when should be settled when the chip-in gift is agreed upon by all chip-in parties.
2.) The gift must be something all parties believe in, and should be something that, to the best of all the gifters’ knowledge, is something that will be well-received giftee.
3.) If someone agrees to a chip-in, but changes their mind when payment is due, fellow chip-in giftees are entitled to treat that person like the unreliable jackass that they are (unless some unexpected financial hardship has befallen them).
4.) One should never force a chip-in situation unto a fellow gift-giver for an item that’s already been paid for without any consultation between the two giftees.
Clearly, these Aerosmith tickets did not fit the description of a chip-in gift, and Trusty was trying to pull a number 4 over me.
Perhaps more significant than the gift classification, I understood something incredibly important about this situation of which Trusty was oblivious: those tickets were truly for his benefit alone. Mike wasn’t that jazzed about the concert; he was turning up the enthusiasm (largely at my behest) so Trusty didn’t feel like he got him a bad gift.
Why would I chip in for these tickets? I’m not even going to the concert! Left to my own devices, as I thought had been prior to this phone call, I would never have chosen an Aerosmith concert as a chip-in gift. This wasn’t remotely my idea! I jumped aboard this rickety bandwagon just to be nice, and now in true Oregon Trail fashion, I’m metaphorically dying of dysentery and all of Trusty’s oxen are dead.
I was singularly amazed that Trusty would have the audacity to ask me to chip in on a pair of tickets he seemingly could afford several months ago but that have since become a budgetary nuisance exactly five days before the date of the concert. I hate to make baseless accusations, and I have absolutely no proof of this, but I suspect Trusty’s wife (the one who brings unwelcome desserts to parties Mike and I have hosted) found out the purpose of this $200.00 debit on their checking account, and insisted that Trusty hit me up to absorb some of the cost. I could think of no other reasonable explanation as to why he’d drop a bomb like this out of the blue. Trusty is overwhelming accommodating, passive, and non-confrontational, so the prospect of him having the nerve to ask me for money doesn’t seem like something he would’ve done with encouragement (…or implied threats of divorce).
I was speechless while I considered the various motivations for this unceremonious beggary, but before I could form words, Trusty continued:
“Yeah, because we had the party at the house last year, you know, and that was a lot of work…”
And that’s when everything came into perspective like when you’re at the optometrist putting your eyes into the ass of that butterfly-looking machine and the correct lens snaps into place: to justify this shakedown, Trusty is citing the party he offered to host last year at his house for Mike’s birthday as a debt that needs to be repaid.
I thought I couldn’t be any more shocked by this whole exchange, but once Trusty intimated that this whole Aerosmith chip-in was tantamount to paying a debt, I was completely befuddled. I am like a Lannister when it comes to debts, and that party was not something that required any compensation.
The birthday party Trusty hosted last year did get a little rowdy, and there were a lot of unsavory characters there, but I also seem to remember the fact there were also about 10-15 people there who Trusty’s wife invited who my boyfriend has never met. Also, there was an inexplicable 80s theme which is even more confounding when you think about the fact that Mike, Trusty, and most people there were born in the 70s (except for me, of course, but I wasn’t even born in the 80s, either). There were children that ruined my badminton rackets—whose replacement, I might add, I never once mentioned to Trusty even though I was fully entitled to do so. I brought a pie that his wife never served! The more I thought about the request, the more infuriated I became.
If Trusty was at any point uncomfortable with the goings-on at the 2013 birthday bash, it was his responsibility as a host, a homeowner, and a father to shut that shit down when it was happening. I’m not paying $100 because he decided to passive aggressively hold onto these icky feelings about the party until an opportunity to get cash for some Aerosmith tickets presented itself.
Yet, as I sat there holding the phone, I realized that this has the potential to become a thing. I’ve always gotten along well with Trusty, and I felt he betrayed whatever fledgling proxy friendship we might have had by putting me in this awkward situation. I knew I could righteously explain all the reasons why I refuse to chip in any money for the Aerosmith tickets and that would be the end of it, because Trusty is too docile to get into argument about it. Let’s not forget, he’d been tippy-toeing around the issue or asking me for the money for most of our phone call. Yet, I felt that if I refused there’d always be this weird tension between us. On the other hand, if Trusty’s wife was the true orchestrator of this whole sordid affair, it seemed unfair to be upset with Trusty. If anyone abides by the idiom, “Happy wife, happy life,” it’s Trusty.
If Trusty’s wife was the one who wanted the money, Trusty should have told me as much. I still would’ve been pissed, but I’d more receptive to considering giving him the money if I knew it would help him keep the peace at home. I’ve never been a fan of Pinky and the Brain type romantic relationships, but how other people handle their business is none of my business—except in this instance. For better or worse, Trusty would never vilify his wife that way (which would be noble if she actually wasn’t the rogue that she is) so he was put into this situation, possibly. Ladies, wives, girlfriends—do not ever ask your significant other to ask another woman for money. If you think someone owes you something, you handle it yourself.
I should have just asked Trusty what motivated this request and explained that I never agreed to give him anything, but instead I panicked and said I’d give him the money for the ticket. He seemed relieved and grateful, and I got off the phone as fast as I could so I could promptly call one of my best friends and animatedly recount the entire affair. You should know by now that if I’m willing to initiate a phone call, the shit has hit the fan. After ranting and raving while grocery shopping at Jewel, I still wasn’t sure what to do.
I knew giving Trusty the money and never telling anyone about it would make this all go away, but it wouldn’t be right. Evil would triumph, and I’d probably harbor some weird resentment about this whole debacle that would surface at an inappropriate time in the future, like a kid’s birthday party or something. I could tell Mike about it and get his opinion, but I already knew he’d be livid if he found out Trusty asked me for money and would insist I not give him a dime, and he might even tell Trusty he knew about the tickets all along and doesn’t even want to go. Initially, to keep the peace, I had intended on giving Trusty the money in accordance with what I told him on the phone, but the more I thought about it, I knew I couldn’t do it. I decided to tell Mike about the whole thing, and he reacted exactly as I expected.
“$100 for a ticket?! Steven Tyler better come offstage and suck my dick for $100.”*
He wasn’t pleased. I told him I wanted to handle it my way and pay the $100, but he threatened to tell Trusty about everything if I did that.
“That’s not even a gift then if you’re paying for it! I’ll feel like such a shithead if you have to pay $100 for a concert I don’t even want to go to. I’m not going. Just tell him that you looked at your account and you can’t afford it.”
It never occurred to me that lying could be my way out of this. I was so incensed about the whole concern it never occurred to me that Trusty has no idea the state of my financial affairs. For all he knew, I could be destitute! I could have a benefactor supporting my lifestyle! It would wound my pride to do it, but Mike convinced me it was the best way out of the obligation I’d wrongly agreed to.
The next morning came and I was sitting at my desk at work waiting for an appropriate time to send Trusty the bad news text. At 9:28, I fired it off:
Four long hours I waited on pins and needles before I got a response, to which I sprinkled on a few more lies for good measure:
I was free, but what did this mean? Would Trusty ever address how alarmingly inappropriate the entire request was? Would he take me aside and confess that Lady MacTrusty put him up to the whole thing?
Well, Trusty joined us for Mike’s birthday dinner, and he didn’t mention anything except the fact that he was able to sell the tickets pretty quickly (which surprised me, too). The enigmatic truth of this situation will probably drive me crazy for the rest of my life. What happened with the tickets?! Why, when they were already paid for several months ago, did the tickets become too costly several days before the concert? Did Trusty’s wife put him up to this? Did the full impact of the $200 hit him as Mike’s birthday neared, so he tried to seize an opportunity to justify his expenditure?
I could stay angry about the whole thing and throw Trusty’s Aerosmith extortion in his face when he least expects it (like at his elder daughter’s high school graduation eight years from now), but I’ve never been good at holding a grudge. Trusty had absolutely no right to ask for any money, and it was wrong of him to put me in that situation, but he sold the tickets and I didn’t have to fork over any cash. I wasn’t exactly forthcoming about Mike’s real opinion about the tickets anyway, so all’s well that ends well. Everyone’s energy is best spent eating cake, anyway.
The enormous piece at the empty seat? Obviously mine.
*The views expressed in this article about the worth of Steven Tyler’s fellatio skills are not based on any factual estimations or appraisals.
