Severing my Azeri dæmon

Tonight, husband is watching Glastonbury music festival. Respect.


I have a new resolution. I have decided, looking at my credit card bills, that I must stop being so Azeri.

Despite what some more traditional Azeries might tell you, there actually are many things that are very Azeri about me. Some of them I manage to hide well, some I get away with. Some I am even proud of. But there is one thing that I must (absolutely must!!!) get rid of.

Husband is getting increasingly annoyed about bailing me out. He probably finds it even more annoying considering he wants to spend every penny he has left after the mortgage payments, endless taxes and everything else on his new business idea-becoming an off-road competition buggies manufacturer. He is telling me he will start selling them shortly (as soon as the recession is over, I guess) and make me rich.

In the meantime, between husband’s middle-age madness (or a genius business plan- who knows?) and my Azeri habits my credit card bills are not looking too healthy. And before you assume I keep buying myself expensive things, let me explain. I tend to spend a lot on other people.

It is like some mental disorder.

I already mentioned something about Azeries being wasteful with money before. And about our genetic need to show off. And about wanting to appear generous and better off than we really are. But since this is something that I am focusing on right now, I will risk this gentle reminder.

OK, so here is a situation. We got invited to our good friend’s birthday lunch last weekend. Husband thinks we don’t have to take a present: a bottle of nice wine would be enough, he says. After a few minutes of my meaningful look, he goes to the shops and returns with a book.

It is very English and very elegant- to buy someone a book. Sometime ago, I would have argued that it was embarrassing and unacceptable- because it only cost £9.99.
I don’t care if it is a great story (which it was: one of my favourite books this year). I would have not accepted my husband’s explanation that I am “not Mrs Abramovich” and that this friend “would appreciate the gesture, not the price of the present”

I would have insisted we must buy something more substantial.

But not the new me! I have now given myself a promise and I am going to work on it.
No, Scary- I told myself,- You do not have to go overboard just because you feel thankful you have been invited to a birthday party. Or because this is one of your very few good friends who is actually in this country. Be cool. Be British about it. I feel the pain as I am severing my Azeri dæmon though.

Another important thing I must remind myself all the time that it is not a competition.
And when we show up with our elegant and sophisticated symbolic present, I must not get depressed that the other couple brought him an Armani tie.

Or when my good friend has a new baby, and I buy her a lovely soft toy, I must not feel like I failed when our more successful girlfriend pulls out a gorgeous bespoke keepsake box.

But it is all about the mentality, isn’t it. I was shocked when my Irish girlfriend was telling me how annoyed she got with her sister.

-She bought such expensive Christmas gifts for our nephews and nieces!- she said, clearly outraged.

I did not get it. What can she possibly get annoyed about? The sister loved her nephews, had a good job, was single and wanted to spend her money on buying them nice gifts. I even felt sad I was the only child and my daughter did not have generous and loving aunties like that.

-But their parents can not afford such presents- my friend explained - how do you think it made them feel??

Oh?...-I thought.
Oh…-said my dæmon.