Someone Should Buy You Flowers
Date: Wednesday April 1, 2009Posted in: back in the day, flowers, me
In my early twenties I was an articling accounting student trying to make ends meet in the bustling metropolis of Vancouver. Student wages were not bad, but I was a single girl with both rent and a car payment to make. Add in the cost of food and toiletries and there was nothing left over for things like eating out, magazines, or buying new clothes. I did what I had always done and got a second job.
I spent my evenings and weekends working at a popular restaurant which had an enormous outside patio that jutted out into a waterway known as False Creek. Most of the restaurant staff was like what you see at any other trendy restaurant these days; young, dressed in black and easy on the eyes. My co-workers and I got along famously and I soon learned that in this business flirting was a sport, not merely a game. For a girl who had spent a good chunk of her life in the “awkward” group it sure felt nice to be treated as one who was “flirt-worthy.”
In addition to the smooth-talkers there were those on staff who were just good people. Those were the ones that I gravitated to, as I could only take so much of the raging pheromones. One of the friends I made was the manager of the Valet staff who was a really great guy. He was smart, kind, and looked a bit like a big teddy bear. He would encourage me to spend my money wisely. To invest it, buy a home, not squander my earnings away like the rest of the staff did so easily.
One night after the restaurant was closed we were all sitting out on the patio as we always did (before we went elsewhere). This friend would often sit with us for a bit but never went out; he was not much of a partier. That night he ended up sitting next to me and I don’t know how we got to that point in the conversation, but he had assumed due to all of the flirting I received from both staff and patrons alike that I had a highly active dating life. This was so far from the truth that I actually laughed out loud. He seemed to be in sincere shock that nobody was wooing me with kind words, nights out, flowers. I told him that he was sweet to think so but that most guys were pretty lame when it came to doing anything beyond a smart/flirty remark.
On my very next shift I was just getting set up to start when he walked into the restaurant with a large bouquet of flowers and handed them to me with this look I cannot describe. There was no romantic vibe, no discomfort, no awkwardness. He was simply my friend and wanted to bring me flowers with no hope of anything in return. I opened the card attached to the flowers and inside he had written one line:
Someone should buy you flowers
I was overwhelmed by the simplicity of that sentence. Here was this sweet friend stating something that I often did not believe about myself. He saw value in me as a human being (not a love interest) and wanted me to know that I was worth something so simple as a bouquet of fresh flowers.
I have kept that note card in my jewelry box for over twelve years. What he did for me was so completely thoughtful, giving, selfless and sweet. I have no idea whatever happened to him but the simple truth in that statement has stuck with me over the years.
Ever since then I have occasionally walked into the grocery store and seen that they have had a new shipment of flowers. I will wander over and peruse the selection. Without fail I will hear those words echoing in my head.
Someone should buy you flowers
I will pick an arrangement that makes my heart smile and place it in my basket.
Because sometimes, that “someone” is yourself.
As a general rule Matthew and I don’t “do” Valentine’s Day. This is not to knock those who celebrate it, we have just never really embraced it. Each year we confirm that we are still not getting anything for each other so that nobody’s feelings are hurt. We had that annual conversation last week and agreed that once again, we were opting out.
Fast forward to Saturday afternoon. Matthew went out to run some errands and returned with a bouquet of fresh flowers. Roses are nice and all, but I much prefer a mixed bouquet. I was not expecting them, which made the bouquet even more fantastic. The fact that I got him absolutely NOTHING took some of the glow off, but not that much. For I got to take out my winter-bored camera and take some photos.
These flowers have been an added blessing this week since every single one of us has come down with the Cold of Epic Proportions. We are trapped inside and drowning in snot and tears. With a side of hacking cough, sore throats and a few blown chunks. Graham decided to throw in an ear infection for good measure. Then there are the aches and chills…
It ain’t pretty, but at least the flowers are. They also aren’t contributing to the flow of bodily expulsions, so they look extra shiny to me these past few days. A big burst of color in the midst of the gloom of winter and illness is exactly what this sick (and tired) girl needs.
I am pretty sure you all can’t catch what we have through the computer screen, but I am not promising anything. You might want to wash your hands to be on the safe side. You can never be too careful, you know.
*A year ago today: Dreaming Big
