Monday, July 31, 2006

In which I Out Myself as an Ungrateful Shrew

I am married to a wonderful man. He's my best friend, and in ten years together, I have never once gotten bored with spending time with him. He's cute, charming, responsible, a great dad, and he brings me flowers.

So, what's the problem? Well, he brings me flowers.

The thing is, I love flowers, but I'm a snob about it. Tulips, Freesia, Daisies, and fragrant roses are among my favorites. I despise carnations, filler flowers like the ones found in cheap supermarket bouquets, and expensive, sterile, scentless red roses. My absolute least favorite flowers are Astrolomerias (and if I were more technologically savvy, I would have found a link to them to show you why). They're the utterly cheap flowers that florists throw into bouquets to add volume without cost. They're thin, with a trumpety shape, a garish purple and white coloring, and absolutely no scent. I hate them -- always have.

But the Boy, he loves to bring me flowers, and he apparently thinks the best flowers are the ones near the register at the supermarket. In the ten years we've been together, I have never received a lush, fragrant bouquet of one of my favorite flowers. Instead, I get whatever generic, filler-rich bouquet is either (a) apparently front and center at the supermarket; or (b) lying around the florist's shop when the Boy calls to have flowers delivered to me. Every Valentine's day, I get overpriced red roses, no matter how often I wax rhapsodic about muticolored, fragrant roses.

But the absolute nadir came today. It's our anniversary, and as I stumbled into the bathroom after the Cheeto's 4 am feeding, I encountered a forest when I reached for the light switch. My dear, sweet Boy, who I love with all of my heart and who is endlessly thoughtful, has brought me flowers, and left them in the bathroom for me to find in the morning. It's a big, huge bouquet of Astrolomerias.

Now I ask you, what's a flower snob to do? The Boy is undeniably sweet to bring me flowers at all, and he'd be crushed if I were less than thrilled with what he brought me. But if I don't speak up somehow, I'm doomed to a lifetime of shoddy bouquets that frankly, I'd rather he not waste the money on. So how to do I extricate myself from this situation without being a complete bitch?

1 comment:

meh said...

I don't know if you get notified of old comments, but I found your blog today and am totally and thoroughly enjoying reading every post. This one brings a comment.

Say nothing directly. I once commented - trying (and failing) to sound "funny" - about the fact that my man only brought me the $5 by-the-side-of-the road roses because he felt sorry for the flower man and not because he cared about me - that the flowers were overpriced and not particularly pretty or long-lasting. They are the last flowers I have ever received.

I have learned in my old age to comment to friends when I think he will overhear, about things that are important that I want him to "get." Somehow, if I'm telling my friends, he perks up and listens. So maybe next time the friends are together, you could start a "flower" conversation (clue the girls in a head of time maybe?) and drop this "My favorite and least favorite" flower thing, and see if he catches on.

Just a thought. Good luck.