Poor Scarfy (or) The Scarf No One Wanted

So I made this scarf. I personally think it's beautiful. It's made of four different yarns in different purple and turquoise colorways. But I made it for someone. It wasn't for me. Sure, I could just keep it for myself. But that's not the point.

Well, original recipient (we'll call her "A") has been over to my apartment a few times since I finished poor Scarfy. And has yet to collect the prize. I've pointed Scarfy out to A each time she's been for a visit. (Nudge, nudge, your scarf is still waiting for you.) Now, I'll admit, A's favorite color is green. But I know full well she likes blues, too. Her team coat would look great with Scarfy! A green scarf would clash like vomit on a white bedspread. And yet, Scarfy has never gone home with her. Poor, neglected Scarfy.
After several nudge-nudge's, I decided that, despite A saying she liked Scarfy, perhaps, somehow, mysteriously, she really did not. OK, pride hurt, ego bruised. And then over it. Too bad for A, if she can't appreciate art, well, so be it. Scarfy will have a new master chosen. So we move onto, uh, we'll call her "B".

B has come for a visit before Scarfy's original intended has brushed him off too many times. She has commented on how attractive Scarfy is, how soft Scarfy feels, how nice Scarfy is. Oooo, Scarfy has an admirer! But B is told that Scarfy is someone else's. B shows great disappointment in learning this. AND SAYS THE FOLLOWING: "Well, if A doesn't like/want/love/worship Scarfy, please, send him my way." I file away that little thought and go on with life, anticipating that Scarfy will be taken home A's next visit. And, of course, A's next visit comes and goes and Scarfy sits here, patiently waiting for his ride home.
So the new master for Scarfy is chosen. It will be none other than... da da da... B! On B's next visit, I tell her that A has decided that Scarfy was not made for her. B goes on and on about how A is nuts, anyone in their right mind would love to have Scarfy, A does not deserve Scarfy if she "forgets" to take him home, etc., etc. Yes, I think, Scarfy now has someone who will love him as he deserves! I love him, in my own way, but again, Scarfy was made with the gifting kind of love. And he does not match my coat. I'd look like a colorblind fool wearing Scarfy with my Green Bay Packers coat. I ask B if she would like to take Scarfy to be her own. She shrieks with delight and dances in circles with Scarfy cradled in her arms. (OK, she did shriek with delight but the dancing didn't happen. One can dream that their knitting will someday have such effect on people...) And then the visit ended.

I go about picking up this and that around the apartment. And find... WHAT?!?!?! SCARFY?! No, this can't be happening! Why are you still here? We found you a new loving owner! (Didn't we?) What is going on? Why can't you leave? Is there still a ball of one of your yarns attached to you and the recipients are just waiting for you to be finished and your ends weaved in? No, that's not it, you're all done and ready to move out. Your bags are packed, you've been taken off the lease, you've said your goodbyes. WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!

I don't get it. What immovable force is keeping Scarfy here? Have I really let go? Am I hiding Scarfy before his masters leave so they must leave him behind? No, Scarfy was sitting on the yarn drawers, right by the front door, each time A left. And Scarfy was on the table when B left. Do I (or does Scarfy?) somehow create a blind spot in A or B's field of vision when they're getting ready to go? I cannot comprehend this. Is this a common occurrence in the knitting universe? I can't imagine someone behaving this way in relation to a knitted gift. A is an excellent crocheter, she knows the time it takes to create something by hand. B, does not do either, but I forgive her that.

What will we do about Scarfy? Poor, lovely, soft Scarfy. How he must feel.

I guess I'm buying a new coat.