Thursday, July 7, 2011

You don't bring me flowers. Thank you for that.

Over at The Pie, where the Faithful Followers switch topics the way a television switches channels, the topic of flowers came up.

As in, receiving flowers.

From a Gentleman.

Now I love me some flowers.  I love roses, lilies, peonies, sweet peas, daisies, etc.  Except for Gardenias.  I hate the smell of Gardenias.  Oh, and daisies reminds me of a joke:

When is a Vase a Vahz?  When it is filled with Dahzies.

Bahhahahahaha!  I hate it when people pronounce "vase" as "vahz."  So pretentious.  Like pronouncing "endive" as "ondeeve."  Please.

Anyway.  I love flowers.  I love having fresh flowers in a lovely vase (not vahz) on my tables and/or mantels.

But as for RECEIVING flowers from a gentleman, well, I'd rather not received them.

Not because I'm some sort of militant feminist who doesn't need a damn man to buy her flowers because she can buy her own damn flowers but because I don't have a good track record when it comes to receiving flowers from Gentlemen.

A few examples:

Back in my wild misspent youth (read: single slutty days): I arrived at work one morning after an alcohol soaked evening that ended with a walk of shame (if you get my drift) and there on my desk was a massive bouquet of roses, a couple dozen of them, along with a Magnum of Champagne.  My one-night-stand had sent them.  I must have shown him quite a good time (if you get my drift) and he wanted to show his appreciation.  Me?  I wanted to forget the night (and him) had ever happened (parts were big blanks so I guess I did.  Kind of).  He?  Wanted to bring me home to Meet his Mom.  I guess I was That Good.

I reacted by never taking his calls and avoiding him like the plague.  Because I'm mature like that.

Example #2:  I had this friend.  Bob was his name.  He was funny and cute and we were Best Friends.  Partners in Crime.  Cronies.  Sidekicks.  It was strictly a Platonic Friendship.  At least on MY part.  But one day we did the Grownup.  I was bored, is my only excuse.  Immediately I realized it was a mistake and figured we go back to being just Friends.  Without Benefits.

He, on the other hand, thought differently.  As I found out when a couple of days later he brought me roses, professed his love and told me he thought his family's big Christmas get-together would be the perfect time to announce our engagement.  

Huh wha?

Sadly, our friendship, not to mention our "romance" came to a screeching halt as I reacted to his proposal in a very mature manner:  I ran away and avoided him like the plague.  Because I'm mature like that.

Cut me some slack, I was 21.  This Girl just wanted to have Fun.  Not marry a guy who was, shall we say, "underwhelming" in the sack (if you get my drift).

Example #3:  I had made the decision to end a long relationship because I had lost that lovin' feelin'.  It happens.  I was going to meet with him after work and dump his ass give him the "it's not you, I need my space, we can still be friends" speech.  Right before lunch, I look up and there he is, walking toward me with a big bouquet of roses and an expression of such love on his face as my coworkers, who all absolutely ADORED him, applauded and cooed.

And I'm all, "Fuuuuuuuuck."

It was another six months before I was finally able to Officially end the relationship because he must have sensed my feelings and switched into overdrive with the romantic gestures and it made me feel guilty.  

So I reacted by cheating on him every chance I got.  Because I'm mature like that.

Fast forward to when TheManTheMyth and I had been married for about a year or so.

It's my birthday.  TheManTheMyth presents me with a beautiful bouquet of roses.  Obviously to soften the blow of my actual birthday present.  Which was a transmission for the Baja Bug he had given me for Christmas.  Which was something I never asked for nor wanted.

THIS is a Baja Bug:
And they say Romance is Dead.

But wait!   There's more!

One day, TheManTheMyth comes walking in the door with a dozen red roses and a stupid grin on his face.  Instantly my guard is up.

A moment later, my mother-in-law walks in with her little slapdog Tinkerbell (I HATED that dog.) and a suitcase. 

And TMTM tells me that MIL will be staying with us for a couple of weeks and you don't mind do you honey and did I mention that I'm leaving in a few minutes for a Boys Trip and I'll be gone about the entire duration of my mom's stay and look here are some lovely flowers for you because I love you so much because you're the Best Wife in the World and oh look, my ride is here I gotta go. 

And THAT is why I'd rather not receive flowers from a Gentleman.


  1. Poor you!! I think I would stick to buying or growing my own flowers! ;-)

  2. Oh, those are bad flower memories. Bad.

    See, I have only good flower memories: one of them being I was enamored with this boy in high school. I had no idea if he even knew I existed. That is, until Valentine's Day when I went to my first period and a kid presented me with a rose and told me it was from that guy. The next period, the same thing. And on and on it went until the end of the day, when he was waiting for me after class with a dozen more roses. We went out for many months. To this day, I still think about that boy and smile.

    And all of my other flower memories are smiley ones, too. That one though, had the most effort behind it.

    So sorry Kelly for the bad flower juju and also, the Baja Bug, but especially the mother in law. I. Would. Kill.

  3. Sadly Baja the Bug did not download so I don't know what it is but I'm assuming it's nasty.
    You are hilarious, I LOVE your writing!!!
    As for flowers, well, I never get any. My second husband knows that my first husband used to only get me flowers after he had cheated on me. So second husband is afraid I'll think he cheated on me if he brings flowers. Now if husband #2 ever dropped off his mother, then ran, I'd be expecting more than flowers. Diamonds...many.