There are a multitude of things I don’t understand when it comes to dating, romance and relationships between men and women, husbands and wives.
But one of the things on the top of the list would have to be my lack of understanding regarding flowers. Don’t even get me started on the different colors of roses and what those colors communicate to the recipient. When I was younger, I learned the hard way that giving a girl you barely know a red rose isn’t a smart move.
I don’t really understand a woman’s fascination with flowers, or where that fascination comes from. It’s not like I hate flowers. I enjoy orange lillies when they bloom around my birthday every June. But women seem to be attracted to flowers the way many men are attracted to the remote control, fantasy football or power tools.
This is my theory. It’s not necessarily the flower that the woman is enthralled with — it’s what the flower symbolizes: a guy’s willingness to make a fool of himself, if need be, because of his boundless love for her.
[pullquote]This is my theory. It’s not necessarily the flower that the woman is enthralled with — it’s what the flower symbolizes: a guy’s willingness to make a fool of himself, if need be, because of his boundless love for her.[/pullquote]
This theory came to me years ago while I was standing in a check-out line at a major grocery store chain. As a newlywed, I decided to procure a few red (not yellow or pink) roses for my wife. Perhaps buying roses at a major grocery store chain was my first mistake, but I was on a tight budget.
I don’t remember the occasion. It may have been a major commercial holiday or maybe I was looking to get out of the proverbial doghouse. I figured this major grocery store chain would have roses, and I was right.
Anyway, after selecting a few of the prettiest, freshest, reddest flowers in the glass freezer case, I found myself standing in a long check-out line with nothing but three long-stemmed roses in hand. Yes, I was too poor to buy a full dozen.
I noticed several shoppers staring at me, giving me curious looks.
“How adorable,” said a blue-haired woman in front of me. I don’t know what was redder at that point, the flowers or my face. If only my wife could see me now, I remember thinking, she would never doubt my love for her.
When I arrived home, I presented my wife with the roses, her favorite flower. She was shocked, I think, which was the effect I was going for. She beamed as she breathed in the sweet fragrance. Then she put the roses in a glass vase and told me how much she loved them. She was impressed that I went to a store to buy the flowers because she knows I don’t like shopping. She laughed when I told her the reaction I received from people who saw me standing in the check-out line with roses.
That vase sat on the kitchen counter for a couple of days until the flowers started drooping and the pedals began wilting. I came home from work one day and noticed the roses, and the vase, were gone. When I asked her what happened to the flowers, she replied matter-of-factly, “They died. I threw them away.”
I guess I prefer gifts that have a shelf life longer than three days.
Still, getting her flowers was worth doing. It had made her happy. And that made me happy. Believe me, had I ordered the roses through some 1-800 number, or through the Internet, from the comfort of my home, I don’t think it wouldn’t have meant as much.
My point is, I think wives like their husbands to go out of their way for them. Of course, we should be happy to do such things because our wives are the mothers of our children. Just think of all of the many things they do for us.
Doing spontaneously nice things for our wives, not just on Valentine’s Day, is the least we can do. Even if that means standing in a long check-out line with red roses.