Couples who have been together for a period of time are well aware of the personal rules they have set for each other on Valentine’s Day. My husband and I are no different. If I received flowers at my place of work from him, I would come un-fucking-glued. Sure, flowers are pretty and smell nice, but they are way too expensive, have the life span of a fruit fly, and end up in the trash before the week is over.
No thank you, flower companies. You’re not gonna trick this gal. Every year on Valentine’s Day my husband and I go to the same restaurant for dinner. We always have a great conversation, good food, and good wine. It’s not over the top, but that’s enough for me. Our favorite topic of conversation over our Valentine’s Day dinner is the drama that unfolds during office flower-delivery time. Enter the flower delivery guy. He’s holding roses mixed with baby’s breath (or whatever that filler shit is called), the women perk up from their desks and from behind their computers eagerly awaiting some random dude holding $75 worth of garden in his hands to call their name. Then he says a name, everyone’s heart sinks except for the one lady who proudly raises her hand and pretends to act as if she didn’t know it was coming, like she didn’t threaten to withhold blow jobs from her husband if he didn’t send her office flowers. She says shit like, “Oh my GOD, I can’t believe Mike sent me flowers. I told him not to!” (huge fucking lie), or “That sneaky guy, he said he wasn’t gonna send me flowers this year and he did! He’s the cutest!” (crock of shit). There are the women who send flowers to themselves, which is the ultimate in pathetic behavior. Maybe they do have a husband or boyfriend, but they actually call FDA, place a flower delivery order, have the card signed with a dude’s name, and deliver that shit to their office. This seriously happens. They act just as surprised as the first group of women, except their dude doesn’t even know this shit is going down.
Then there’s the jealous group of women. Maybe their husband or boyfriend sends the flowers, but he fucks up. He sends half a dozen, while the nosy lady in human resources gets a full dozen, which is grounds for couples counseling. How can she pretend her relationship is better than everyone else’s if her bouquet is half the size of her coworkers’ bouquets? Right? My favorite group of ladies are the ones who fail to get their flowers delivered at peak gloating time. Yes. There are special times to receive your office flowers. If your flowers arrive at lunch, it’s like they were never sent in the first place … 10 a.m. to 12 p.m. are peak showboating office flower-delivery times. What’s the point of getting the flowers if everyone can’t see you get them? Last year I had a coworker get flowers at lunch; her husband may as well have shit in a box and mailed it to her. She was destroyed by his insensitive gesture. What an asshole!!!
I hope this little rant has been helpful. Now look around your office at the ladies prairie dogging behind their computers when the flower guy shows up. Idiots.
Jenny is a television news producer and comedy writer living in Houston, Texas. Jenny loves her husband because he doesn’t send her useless shit on Valentine’s Day. Follow Jenny on Twitter at @JennyJohnsonHi5.