Dropping the f-bomb

HE hands me a colourful bunch of petals with a sheepish flourish.

“Aaww,” I half-smile, half-wince.

I like flowers. Sometimes, I even like getting them from my husband. But bad days are not made good by flowers alone.

Sure, I may be a cold-hearted bitch who doesn’t know how good she’s got it (I’ve been informed thus by countless women who never get flowers).

But flowers resemble expectations and require fake exultations.

The expectation that I will immediately trim them up and arrange them in a suitable vase, gaze adoringly at them and forget all about the crappy day I endured.

The expectation that – if you’re in an office and receive flowers on any day that isn’t your anniversary, birthday or Valentine’s – you must have had a marriage-quaking argument the night before. Even though there was no such disagreement, I begin to feel self-conscious that I’m perceived as either: a) the woman putting up with her husband’s shit or b) a cold-hearted bitch.

Hmm, I see a pattern forming.

It’s all a lot of work if it’s coming at the end of a particularly arduous day. The same, however, cannot be said of chocolate.

When I get chocolate, my “ooh”s are genuine, I gush over the thoughtfulness and it does make me forget (for a moment) the crap-tacular day I’ve had. I’m enthusiastic about chocolate – “Are they for me?” “Can I have them now?” “Are they all for me?”

If I get flowers, they tend to end up on a bench, left to slump on the counter while I have a good sit-down. Which, understandably, is a little like a slap in the face. Which, unfortunately, leads to the “aren’t you going to put them in water?” debacle. I figure any gift specifically given to alleviate the stress of one’s day – should not add any further commitments nor make any demands.

A block of chocolate requires no water, no vase, no kitchen scissors to trim off stems… it comes to the couch with you, you can rip it open and enjoy it without the use of utensils and the wrapper can sit wedged between cushions until you’re ready to get up. No fuss, no muss.

(PS For the record, I have delighted in getting spectacular bouquets for special occasions. I don’t mean to sound quite so stingy. But random flower-giving from servo’s and the Woolies counter… you may as well just go to the confectionary aisle).