Flowers, man.
Don’t get ‘em. Likely never will.
The other day I was in Tesco buying flowers for my good lady
wife who was feeling poorly at the time. I don’t often buy flowers. Mostly
because I never know what ‘kind’ to get.* Do you get the one that look like
your stereotypical flowers? Do you get the weird looking ones that sort of
resemble broccoli? A combination of both? And then after all that you’ve still got
the colour to worry about.
 |
| Terrifying. |
It’s a wonder I don’t just collapse into a gibbering heap in
front of the people queuing for fegs and lottery tickets.
[* is ‘kind’ even the right way to describe flowers? Should
I have used ‘type’ or ‘genus?’ Should I use their correct Latin name?]
And Tesco, or any supermarket, is probably the easiest place
to buy them too. If you go into an actual
florists, you don’t just pick out whatever flowers you think look nicest, and
hope for the best. They ask you what
kind of flowers you’d like. At that point I feel like I’m on Who Wants to be a
Millionaire staring in befuddlement at the final question, on the verge of
tears, while Chris Tarrant chuckles amiably at my ineptitude.
“Uh…can I have the…er, the…um…well, I think she likes…erm”
*collapses in front of people queuing for fegs and lottery
tickets, but not before noting it odd that a florist sells such things*
In the end I just point to something that looks vaguely
flowery and pretty, in much the same way as I do when ordering food abroad, in
the hope that the woman behind the counter doesn’t chastise me for picking some
hideous flower that’ll upset my wife so much that she’ll leave me and shack up
with some flower aficionado, with better hair. Because like the florists, the
barbers is another place where I’m generally befuddled as to what to ask for so
there’s no doubt many many people out there with better hair than me.
 |
| Just out of shot; me, crying on the floor. |
But in general, flowers annoy me. I can appreciate a flower
as well as anyone else, and when they’re not caused my hay fever afflicted
sinuses to sneeze over everything in sight, I can agree that they’re pretty and
are nice to look sitting on the windowsill in my front room. But more often
than not it’s assumed that if you, a man, are buying flowers you’ve either done
something wrong or looking to get something.
The woman in Tesco when I got to the counter to pay straight
up asked me ‘So what did you do then?’ Aside from being utterly presumptuous of
her - I hadn’t done anything wrong – it makes it seem that women are such petty
creatures that one bunch of flowers is a cure-all method for any indiscretions
you, the horrible horrible man, have carried out. Unless of course, it works.
Womenfolk, are you so blinded by flowers’ colourful olfactory powers that it
supersedes any transgressions the man in your life has committed? I’d like to
hope not.
 |
| "They're lovely. I totally forgive you for sleeping with my sister." |
And then you have the Valentines Day aspect of it, which in
my mind is statistically the least romantic time to give your partner flowers.
I would reckon at least 95% of men get their significant other some form of
flowers on February 14th which hardly makes the recipient feel
special, does it? ‘Aw, you relented to cultural norms and did the same thing as
millions of other men around the world have also done. How romantic and
thoughtful of you, and not at all a near mandatory demand forced upon you by
years of indoctrination that today is the most romantic day of the year.’ Buy your
partner flowers on a Tuesday in October, completely out of the blue. I don’t
pretend to know the anything about the workings of the female mind, but I can
pretty much guarantee you it’ll be more special to her than buying her flowers
on a pre-determined ‘romantic’ day.
If she likes flowers, that is. If she doesn’t then don’t buy
her any, you idiot.
The shelf life of flowers bothers me too. If I receive
something as a gift, I fully expect it to last for a good while. I have things
in my house that I got for my 18th birthday (I’m 28 now) that I
still use and are still in good nick. Flowers, if you’re lucky, last a week. A
week! I’ve got milk in my fridge that lasts longer than that! And considering
the amount of money that you can spend on a bouquet of flowers, I don’t feel
that’s a very solid investment. Some bunches of flowers even have the audacity
to state that they ‘Will Last for 4 Days.’ Four days. Four poxy days. Imagine
if you were given a DVD or a game and it
said ‘Will Only Work for the Next Four Days.’ You’d be livid. If I’m spending
that amount of money on something I either better be able to keep it or eat it.
Preferably both.
If I had my way, I’d have all men give their partners
acorns. It’s kind of a flower. Trees are pretty. And it’ll last for years.
Now that’s a solid investment.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
In conclusion, I think flowers are a pretty stupid gift. But
I’m a massive hypocrite because I bought Jenny some the other day, and they
made her smile.
So maybe they do have some merit.
But what do I know?
[EDIT: I haven't sworn in this blog, surprisingly, so here's a picture.]
