Coins

 

Coins; a midnight rambling before bed. 

I hate doing the nice things, don’t you? Those little gestures that inconvenience yourself for the sake of someone else’s happiness. Your money spent on a coffee. Your time used to pick something out that they might like just because of how you think they’d enjoy it. How they would enjoy it. 

But it’s not really for them, is it? At least, not fully for them. No, you get more out of it than they do. Even at your own expense, you have more to gain from it. 

A token of appreciation, you call it. But what are tokens if not a means of exchange. You put a token in the machine, and the machine gives you what you want. So, is this token not for your own benefit? You want to see them smile. You want to make their day, as if it’s yours to make. You want them to do the same for you. 

And they will get it in their head that they should do the same- that they should repay you for what you’ve done. Even when you say it’s a gift or it’s just a token of appreciation, they will still think of it as something to be returned. 

A stranger giving you a gift feels predatory, a colleague giving you a gift feels too intimate. The only people where gifts don’t feel like an exchange are your partners and your family- and even then, are you not going to return the favour? And how will they feel in a couple months if you don’t? Will they hold it against you, or will you hold it against yourself for not being as good of a friend- as if an exchange of gifts makes you any better or worse of an acquaintance. 

The nice things come at someone’s expense, and have hidden surcharges in the fine print somewhere. I bought you a cookie because I want you to do something for me. I told you that you look nice because I’m going to borrow some money. You brought my favourite chocolate bar to me so that I’d keep you as a friend. Those nice things- those seemingly innocent things- have another side to them. Like a coin- or a token.