I didn't get her what she wanted for her birthday. Am I a bad guy?

This is one of those, "We've only been going out two months and her birthday is coming up, and if I don't put a shit-tonne of money into the present then she might break up with me, but if I do put a shit-tonne of money in, she might break up with me anyway, and I'll be down a shit-tonne of money for nothing," stories.

My idea of a shit-tonne of money at that time, was two hundred dollars. What a dickhead I was.

And I say, 'at that time,' because this cushy little anecdote takes place in 2019.

"Let's go to Chadstone," the then GF said, this being at a time when shopping centres weren't host to violent machete stabbings every second day.

We arrived at Chaddy and she castigated me for not holding her hand as we walked around the place.

The last time I didn't do what she said – get sweet and sour sauce with her McNuggets – she forced me to watch Magic Mike and Magic Mike 2 back-to-back.

Those are the shittest movies I've ever seen. As a man, they make you want to smash your own face in.

So, I relented and held her hand, and she dragged me halfway across Chadstone to this female clothing and accessory store that didn't have anything at all to keep me entertained (i.e. mannequins wearing hot lingerie).

I was the only male in there, and all the other ladies present were staring. But then I realised their staring, and accompanying facial expressions, were not because they were embarrassed for me, but because they admired me.

WTFFFFFFF? Why?

"What do you think of this?" the GF asked.

It was just a stupid bag.

She hinted. More than anyone in the entire history of the world has ever hinted before, "I desperately want this for my birthday. Like more than anything."

I looked for a price tag, but there didn't appear to be one, and before I could investigate further, she grabbed my hand and yanked me out of there.

I half shit myself when we walked towards Flight Centre, thinking she was going to pull me in there and tell me she also wanted a holiday to Bora Bora for her birthday. But she didn't; she just led me straight back to the car.

Later that night, while no longer being in her presence, I looked up this bag she so desperately wanted and, after finding it, asked the Lord to drop a jet engine on my bedroom (Donnie Darko styles), to get me out of such a conundrum.

"ARE YOU FKG KIDDING ME?! WHO IS THIS LOUIS VOOTIN GUY AND WHY DO HIS BAGS COST MORE THAN A SMALL BOAT?"

Now I knew why the women in the store were staring so admirably. They weren't impressed with me, they were impressed with her – that she'd scored herself a prick so gullible that she didn't have to pay for her own bag, because he would.

A paid trip to Bora Bora suddenly didn't seem so bank-balance-breakingly bad.

The truth is, I actually had the money, but couldn't help thinking, 'by the time it's her birthday, we'll have been together three months. Surely this is like a 1 or 2-year anniversary type present.

I was certain there had to be some kind of birthday present middle ground, and it didn't take long for me to think of it.

Just under a month later, I rocked up to the GF's place with what I thought was an appropriate present, perfectly gift-wrapped, with an arts and craftsy birthday card.

She opened the present, and her reaction was one I'll never forget.

"What the fk is this shit," she said.

It was this.

A white grocery shoulder bag with Louis Vuitton's face printed on it.

I thought it was pretty cool. She didn't.

"I went to a lot of effort to get this made, a lot more effort than just buying one from the store," I said.

"I don't care," she said.

"And a lot of love went into the card as well."

"I don't give a fk about the fkg card. This is the shittest birthday present anyone has ever bought me."

Truth is, I actually bought her a really nice silver necklace as well. The bag was meant to be symbolic – that'd I'd buy her the real thing once our relationship had grown. I didn't get to revealing that though. And because she reacted the way she did, I kept the necklace in my pocket and gave it to a female friend instead.

I didn't hear from the GF again until I got a text from her three days later that simply read, 'I don't think we're going to work.'

Trust me, if you ever get broken up with over text message, it's a good thing. Only cowards do that, and you're so much better than going out with a coward.

Thus, I wasn't even bummed out.

My apartment was void of food in the pantry and the fridge, so I took my Louis Vuitton grocery bag to Woolies and put it to good use.

And wouldn't you know it, two different women walked up to me, told me they thought it was cool, and I asked me where I got it.

"A birthday gift," I said. "Why not mix a bit of high-end fashion with the weekly grocery shop?!" That comment made while I was wearing a torn K-mart singlet, footy shorts and Havaianas.

The worst birthday present ever to one woman, yet a cool grocery bag to two others.

You know what they say – One woman's trash is another woman's treasure.

Would be good if that rule extended to one Matthew Octavius Kelly. And not just the Louis Vuitton grocery bag he once bought a girlfriend.

Hopefully one day I will be. And when I am, I'll buy her anything she wants.

Except one of those pimple popper toys. They're just weird.

Footnote: Memories of this story surfaced thanks to a visit to Melbourne Central Station the other day, and the overhearing of a conversation between a young couple standing near me in the food court, which went a little something like this:

Her: I need to go to Mecca.

Him: Sure. But just know, if you make me go in with you, I'm likely to walk out and step straight in to the path of a tram.

Happy to report there were no tram accidents that day. As to whether the BF paid for the GF's make-up, we'll just have to hope he writes a blog about it some day.