From the moment I entered into the double digits, I’ve been a hopeless romantic.
This happened without reading sappy romance books in my teen years, as most of my female peers did. Most of the time I manage to hide my hopelessness under the guise of my hard-earned cynicism.
At times I view my hopeless romanticism as a character flaw; I feel it weakens my badass-don’t-mess-with-me cynical bitchiness.
I sometimes hate to admit that one of my guilty pleasures is to watch chick-flicks and romantic comedies; they are heart and mind melting gobbledygook.
Ever since those days of my tender youth, receiving flowers from an admirer or boyfriend was one thing I always wanted. In my young and naïve mind, it was the pinnacle of the relationship to receive flowers; it represented love and affection, something I was always starved for growing up.
The flowers didn’t have to be roses, although I do find them beautiful. I’ve always been partial to daisies. Daisies always make me smile and I think of playful innocence and purity of love – and one of my favorite novels is The Great Gatsby.
Over the past twenty-six years I’ve been in and out of relationships, I can count on both hands how many times I’ve been given flowers by boyfriends, lovers and my ex-husband.
Looking back, most of the feelings behind the flowers I received were that of:
1. “I’m sorry” – followed up with the same transgression being committed.
2. “I want to get in your pants” – which I almost always didn’t realize until afterwards.
3. “It’s a holiday so I’d better buy these” – in those rare occasions when my ex-husband bought me flowers, it was always the day after a holiday, such as Valentine’s Day, so he could get them cheaper.
When I worked at a strip club as a manager and DJ, I would sometimes feel so envious of the girls who had flowers delivered to them. Personally, it didn’t matter if they were from a significant other or a customer – these girls didn’t know how lucky they were to be receiving such a beautiful gift.
Fortunately I got to take home most of the flowers the Queen Bee of the club received; she didn’t want the drama that would ensue from her husband seeing the flowers.
True feelings of love and affection were never behind the flowers given to me, therefore that has tainted the image of them in my mind.
In the past, I’ve given people that I cared about flowers; even a single flower can speak volumes of emotion. I would on occasion give the flowers with a card, but mostly they came with an original handwritten poem or lyrics from songs that spoke what I couldn’t find the right words for.
I’ve never had that emotion or gesture reciprocated.
I love going to Trader Joe’s and buying myself flowers on occasion – this way I get the flowers that speak to my heart, without any ulterior motives from an outside source. Nothing brightens my day more than a vase filled with brightly colored flowers on my dining room table; even my cats love them.
When I was in Rome, Italy, I fell in love with the flower vendors in Campo de Fiori – so many varieties and vivid colors of flora; their aromas mixing and mingling to create a unique perfume for the area. I was in heaven.
As I walked around taking photos of the different flowers, one of the vendors reached out and handed me a daisy; it was as if he knew that was my favorite flower. “Buongiorno, Bella!” This was the first time I had ever received a flower with pure emotion, even if it was from a stranger – such a beautiful memory to have.
Perhaps I’m just living in the wrong country? It is my hope that I just haven’t met the right man yet. Story of my life.
I’d love to find a man who will give me flowers “just because”, not have ulterior motives behind the giving, nor subtract from the feelings intended by giving me flowers – it will be the ultimate in unconditional sentiment, and a symbol of his affection for me.
Flowers come and go, but the feelings behind them live on.