Tiny Love Stories: ‘Her Gifts Drove Me Crazy’ - The New York Times

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Modern Love in miniature, featuring reader-submitted stories of no more than 100 words.

Pearls of Wisdom

Every birthday, my Filipino grandmother gave me pearls: necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings. Always tissue-wrapped and labeled with her fine handwriting. Pearls are what she believed a woman should be: polished, elegant. When I was in my punk-rock teens, her gifts drove me crazy — then guilty. “Please, grandma, save your money!” She didn’t listen. She lived to 95. When she lost the ability to walk, shop or remember, I’d sneak previous pearls into her jewelry box. By my early 30s, I’d learned that it’s the giving that matters. She’d find them, delighted to have the perfect present for me, again. — Gendy Alimurung

At my grandmother’s house in Manila. From left to right: my grandmother, mother and me, in 1987, a year before I became punk.

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My ‘Boobie Wake’

The week before my double mastectomy, pent-up fear surged through my body like shaken soda pop. A friend helped me channel my fizz into planning a “boobie wake” at a local pub. The night of the party, I worried by the door. Will anyone show up? Will people perceive my “boobie wake” as a grab for attention? Soon, people filled the room. My husband relaxed as friends bought him beers. Girlfriends paraded in wearing explicit T-shirts, injecting humor into the party. My bubbles evaporated and hope replaced fear as others shared their own woes, their own triumphs over sorrow. — Wendy A. Miller

At the party with my friend, Tammy, on the right. Tammy is also a breast cancer survivor and supported me.

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Drunk With Possibility

I spied my date standing by her car. I dashed out of the bar, leaving behind my mostly untouched gin and tonic. Forgetting we had never met, I wrapped my arms around Jennifer from behind. Her sideways glance was startled but playful. (Later, she would tell me that it’s stupid to sneak up on a New Yorker who knows martial arts.) As Jennifer joined me at the bar, I felt like I was already drunk. Was I? Or, after a 27-year marriage to a man, was I high on dopamine, anticipating kissing a woman for the first time? — Katie Royce

Four months after we met, we bought a house together. Jennifer is on the left.

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Talks With Suga Bear

Suga Bear (legally, Larry Washington) was the security guard at my high school campus. From his booth, Suga Bear watched me catch footballs until it was dark. As I drove off, he’d say a word or two (“keep working”). After my first touchdown, he gave me a hug, and I felt I had done something important. After one particularly bad game, Suga Bear gave me a pep talk. Twelve years later, I have recurring dreams of a ball flying across the sky. When I wake, I can still feel his eyes kindly watching me, encouraging me. Thank you, Mr. Washington. — Daanish Jamal

A selfie with Mr. Washington when I was back for my 10-year high school reunion.

See more Tiny Love Stories at nytimes.com/modernlove. Submit yours at nytimes.com/tinylovestories.

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Tiny Love Stories: ‘Her Gifts Drove Me Crazy’ - The New York Times
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