Sugar Is Sweet, And So Are You

A girl in the office just received a delivery of the most beautiful red roses I have seen in quite some time, and while I feel that red roses have become a bit of a cliché given by men who don’t know better, the fact that the arrangement contained not a sprig of baby’s breath but rather a Martha Stewart-esque filler spoke to the sender’s discerning taste. As I carried the heavy vase down the hall, I breathed deeply to whelm myself with the flowers’ powerful scent; then, drunk on roses, I returned to my desk filled with desire for my own roses – trite though they may be.

Never have I ever had flowers of any kind delivered to me at school, work, home or anywhere. X used to go to the Pike Place Market in downtown Seattle near closing time and buy beautiful bouquets of exotic flowers, always including a Bird of Paradise, at a discount price, but he never once sent me flowers. Of course I never told him that I had a desire for such a thing, but he could have just once surprised me.

But honestly I do, as much as I love flowers, think that they are a horrific waste. I would much rather have a new pair of shoes for the money, but seeing that vase of gorgeous, deep red roses reminded me of how nice it would be, just once, to have a little testament on my desk of how much someone cares for me.