I may run the risk of being expelled from the Female race for admitting this, but I've never understood the appeal of getting flowers.
For many years, it would've sounded like sour grapes to say that.
If (hypothetically, of course), this girl in red:
spends Valentine's Day sulking around muttering "What's the point of getting flowers, anyway?" it tends to smack of bitterness rather than honesty. (The story behind this picture is an entirely other blog post waiting to happen. Aren't those lovely sailboats in the background, though?)
But really, truly, honestly, with all the glorious adolescent years well behind me, I'm going to come out and say it. What's the point of getting flowers, anyway?
If society has appointed a day, and created an expectation, and commercially done everything possible to coerce people into buying and giving flowers, doesn't that deflate the sweetness right out of the gesture?
But this week I think I finally understood it!
I came in to work after-hours to help a lady, and out of nowhere she gave me flowers to thank me.
There was no expectation, no social contract, no holiday obligation, no rule that told her she was supposed to do that. I didn't need them or anticipate them. I wouldn't have been resentful or embarrassed if she hadn't brought them.
And maybe that's exactly what made it so nice that she did.
I found myself walking home along a dark drizzling Seattle street, in possession of six beautiful roses in a delicate little vase, thinking how nice it is to get flowers.
For many years, it would've sounded like sour grapes to say that.
If (hypothetically, of course), this girl in red:
spends Valentine's Day sulking around muttering "What's the point of getting flowers, anyway?" it tends to smack of bitterness rather than honesty. (The story behind this picture is an entirely other blog post waiting to happen. Aren't those lovely sailboats in the background, though?)
But really, truly, honestly, with all the glorious adolescent years well behind me, I'm going to come out and say it. What's the point of getting flowers, anyway?
If society has appointed a day, and created an expectation, and commercially done everything possible to coerce people into buying and giving flowers, doesn't that deflate the sweetness right out of the gesture?
But this week I think I finally understood it!
I came in to work after-hours to help a lady, and out of nowhere she gave me flowers to thank me.
 |
| These are them! They're sitting on my kitchen table causing happiness at this very moment. |
There was no expectation, no social contract, no holiday obligation, no rule that told her she was supposed to do that. I didn't need them or anticipate them. I wouldn't have been resentful or embarrassed if she hadn't brought them.
And maybe that's exactly what made it so nice that she did.
I found myself walking home along a dark drizzling Seattle street, in possession of six beautiful roses in a delicate little vase, thinking how nice it is to get flowers.
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