I have a problem that I am struggling to admit. I am an addict. I love technology and have or lust after or consider every cool geek toy or gadget that comes on the market, especially if it’s Apple compatible.

Apparently, I’m in a co-dependent relationship, because M. seems to have a role in enabling this addiction. While I’m not sure that he’d ever stand on a street corner finding a ne’er-do-well willing to supply my jones, he is cool with colluding with an Apple employee to buy me the good stuff.

Last night’s birthday/VD surprise was the not easy to get, because not enough have shipped, iPod Shuffle.

I had a third gen, 30 gig iPod when we first started to get to know one another. For this past Christmas, he added an iPod mini to what I didn’t realize was going to become my collection.

And now, I can Shuffle. Sweet. (And if anyone asks, since it comes with a lanyard, he got me a necklace for Valentine’s Day, just because that’s so goddamn girlie a thing to squeal. I assume one would squeal it.)

(Of course, I fully realize that he is a student of history and of Machievelli. I enjoy these gifts, and I appreciate how they are personalized to the gadget geek that I am. But, they just might be tinged with a soupcon of selfish, self interest.

The 30-gig, it has been suggested to me, would be good in the living room of our new place as part of the stereo set up. The Mini is now my de facto car player, which adds a bit of soundtrack to our lives. And, the Shuffle has been recommended for the long walks I am very much encouraged to take, perhaps because a beer gut on a 40-year-old chick isn’t uber-enticing.)

For my part, I am an abysmal failure in gift-giving this time around. In my defense, he is a very particular (as in incredibly “picky,” but I’m trying to be polite) kind of man. The leather jacket was a good attempt in terms of genre, but the style was not good.

I had incorrectly thought his attraction to shearling collars on jackets and his love for American icons would make a bomber jacket a good choice. Alas no.

I also thought giving him something from the high end of retail would be kind of a fun treat. However, he suggested I never, ever shop in a store for old, white men if I was looking to outfit him.

I think that’s good and pretty funny advice.

(Weirdly, I have new respect for my mother Pat and her struggles to get clothes for my brothers. Like M., when they were young, they were lean and fit and pretty much not designed for the brawnier Ls, XLs and XXLs that fill most racks of US clothes, so she would buy European tailored stuff. How did I end up with a guy with the body type that taunted my less lean, lower to the ground self all through my childhood?)

Tonight, I hope to redeem myself out there in other stores free of old, white man influence.