Reluctant Michelangelo: I Don’t Want to Write Thank You Cards

Before my wife tears off my skin let me say that I am grateful you came to our wedding and got us a gift. Even if you didn’t come to our wedding, thank you. I am thankful. You will most likely be getting a thank you card because from my vantage point, everyone on earth gets a thank you card.

And I also get it: I have to write the thank you cards. You can’t not write thank you cards. But don’t tell ever tell me you like writing these fucking things. There is no joy to be had. Every moment I am holding a pen and starting down at the card is a moment I can’t get back.

I know. Just get them done.

I can’t. I wish I could. I’m too good at writing thank you cards. I’m the reluctant Michael Jordan of thank you cards. I’m jumping from the foul line hoping that I miss the dunk, but I don’t. I YAM that shit.

Real fast, this is my style: I get the bland stuff out out the way. I cut right to what makes our relationship special. I make a little joke. That joke is tailored to you, and your sensibilities. I sign it with ‘Love’ because after you read my thank you card you feel as if I love you. I probably don’t. I leave you nourished and refreshed.

The only thing that keeps me from sending an invoice along with my thank you cards is my handwriting. It goes beyond being bad. It is unsettling. You would think I grew up in underground sewers. I’ve lived through the horror of people reading my birthday cards to them outloud. All the timing is lost because my e’s look like lost symbols from Atlantis.

When you open a thank you note from me, read it knowing that you robbed me of time. And although you are a thief, I am still giving you the gift of my talents. It begs the question: who really gave whom a gift?