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Sunday, November 11, 2007

Roses Are Red But Who Cares?


On the very first date I ever had, we went to Adventureland on weekend afternoon (he tried to kiss me in the haunted house), after I'd worked for six hours as a cashier at Foodtown. He arrived at my house with a red rose for me. I was 14, and knew I should thank him, so I did. It was a traditional flower to give a girl, I understood that.

But I've never liked red roses. I'd rather get no roses than red roses. To me, red roses speak volumes. They tell me the giver is traditional and boring. The person who gives red roses doesn't think far. They do juuuuuuust beyond the bare minimum (which would giving no flowers). Their button-down shirts are always blue (or white with blue stripes), their khakis are always Dockers. Maybe it's wrong, but I am always disappointed in a man when I see him clutching red roses at the end of the day. Couldn't you think of anything better? Couldn't you think past what you vaguely recall reading you were supposed to do (to fix whatever's made you buy flowers in the first place) in Maxim, and think about what she would really want and appreciate?

Friday, on the way home from work, I saw a guy with orange and purple flowers in his lap, and had to resist the urge to congratulate him for breaking out of the box and being creative.

I suppose there must be some women who like red roses, but I can't imagine how that works. Could it be possible that I'm friends with people who like red roses? Probably not - I think most of my friends are either creative or artsy and that would translate to non-red roses.

I don't have a favorite flower. They're mostly all pretty, and I can appreciate different kinds. Except the red roses.

Labels: Some Me∂

posted by Green at 11/11/2007 08:39:00 PM 9 comments

 

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Name: Green
Location: San Francisco, CA, United States

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