It starts in high school, where every year some bright spark thinks selling roses, chocolates and balloons will raise some money for a cause. Great motivation certainly, but the few girls who receive the gifts walk around with their loot all day; which leads us to the girls who don’t receive anything. There are those that buy something for themselves, or BFFs who gift each other, but more go home at the end of the day with nothing and so feeling less. Less and rejected. Who needs that at 14 or 16 or 60 even?
Then there is that one male who goes all out to impress his loved one in your workplace. Roses that cost more than the current national debt get delivered and every other woman then thinks about the non effort of her husband. Not that most of them made any effort for their husbands either, but apparently that is swept aside in the Valentine’s Day stakes. No, the male is the endangered species.
Minerva, the erstwhile Library assistant, was the actual recipient this year (and last). Her partner of 25 years personally delivered several dozen long stemmed roses today. Every available female followed him to gush and sigh over the flowers. They are beautiful, and have the most delightful perfume.
Female staff were posing with the flowers to send photographs to their husbands with the text message “Thank you, darling. The flowers are gorgeous!” I think that is called stirring the pot…
I am just now sure of his ulterior motive though, as Minerva has a severe allergy to flowers. Her lips tingle and swell, and she was already sniffling and blowing her nose over some blooms outside earlier. Oh yes, that might have been the rose petals he left in a heart shape on the kitchen bench before he went to work this morning. So knowing this, he also brings the flowers to work, ensuring that she has to drive home with them in her small car after work.
He loves her, he loves her not?
[Valentine’s Day in the Flamingo Nest? As I opened the connecting door to the garage this morning I yelled down the hall “Happy Valentine’s Day!” I heard a muffled reply from Mr FD in our bedroom, “Yes, Happy Valentine’s Day!” I won’t tell him I was calling back to Augie Dog…]