Receiving flowers from a suitor is like the kiss of death. I don’t really understand it myself. But when I get flowers from a man, I get totally turned off. Does anybody out there feel this way?
Do I need therapy for this?
It goes way back to my high school days.
I have to tell you some stories I have about receiving flowers. The first time I got flowers from a man was at my sweet 16. There was a senior in high school who was crushing on me. Actually, I think he was in love with me. And that really scared me. I mean, I was only 15, and mentally, I was about 7. But I was cute and had a sexy body even then, which had just started to develop, and I didn’t know what to do with.
I was smart and talented and by my early teens, caught the eye of several guys in school. I was even involved in a love triangle at this age. I had these two hot seniors after me. I liked one as a friend, but was attracted to the other. One was a good boy, the other a, you guessed it, a bad boy. Guess which one I was attracted to? Hmmm. Right. The bad boy, of course. It was only high school, but it was the set-up for the rest of my life. Always attracted to the bad boys and making the wrong choices about men.
But I’m supposed to be talking about flowers today. I’ll get to the whole bad boy syndrome another day.
Shimmel was the good boy. I knew he had a crush on me. When Valentine’s Day came that year, he gave me a love card and a romantic gift. Now, mind you, I was not dating him at all. He was just a friend in the theatre group I was in. At a rehearsal, he hands me this card and gift. I did not know what to do with it. I was afraid to tell my mother because I thought she would kill me. She eventually found out. But after I got that card I felt really nauseous and uncomfortable.Just a really bad gut feeling. Even thought he was a nice guy. He was not a player in any way.
My 16th birthday was the following month. My parents threw me a sweet 16 party at our home.Close friends and family were invited. Shimmel didn’t come, but the doorbell rang during the party. I answered. It was a flower arrangement. From who? Shimmel.
I said, “Oh, thanks.” Meanwhile, I was thinking, “Yuk.” And I had that uncomfortable feeling in my gut again. I didn’t know what the feeling was, but I would get that feeling often throughout the rest of my life. I came to learn that it was my body telling me something was wrong. I learned how to listen to it in order to make better decisions in my life.
The flowers made me feel very uncomfortable about being around Shimmel. I couldn’t help it.
Fast forward to college. A school friend was setting me up on a blind date. She thought the date and I would get along because we were from the same background. Yeah, that’s always a great only reason to date someone. I thought I was much better than blind dating (at that time, I did, now I’m all for it). He was also supposed to be a great dancer. At least that would be something we had in common. I was really excited though. We were going to double date with my friend and her date. The blind date shows up at my house, skinny, dorky, in a three-piece suit, holding out one rose. I was immediately unattracted and grossed out by the flower.
We went to a really cool restaurant, which became a club after hours. I’d always wanted to go to this club. When the music started, he asked me to dance. We got on the dance floor and started to hustle. Ok, it was 1979. HE SUCKED! He sucked so bad, he was throwing me all over the dance floor. Then all of a sudden I was on the floor! Oh no! How embarrassing.
I never saw him again.
Flash to my mid twenties. I was casually dating several people. Not ‘dating’ in the biblical sense, mind you. Two of them were named Hasatan. The one Hasatan #1 was the son of a very successful New York City businessman, handsome, and pampered. We had some really great chemistry, but he was pressuring me and so we were not getting along very well anymore. I liked him a lot, but we had decided to call it quits.
Hasatan #2 was a loser, long haired, ugly, immigrant from Queens, who I’d met at a Queens nightclub. He had asked me out several times. I refused. He wore me down, so I decided to go.We had an ok time, but when my parents met him, they thought the devil just walked into their home.
I refused follow up date invitations from Hasatan #2.
Several months later, I received a gorgeous flower arrangement at my parental home. From Hasatan.
Hasatan who? Which Hasatan? I was hoping it was from the rich Hasatan and not devil Hasatan. Days passed and I didn’t call either of them.
Well, I thought whoever sent them, it was a nice gesture. I was softening in my older age.
Phone rang. It was Hasatan #2. “Did you get my flowers?” Of course it was Satan Hasatan. I know I’d been turned off to flowers in the past, but this time, I kind of thought it was sweet. It must have been the devil’s work penetrating my brain.
I softened, and accepted another date with him. I’m sure it’s because the flowers worked that time.
P.S. Hasatan #2 ended up being my husband. Yes. I married Satan. And within months I left him, after months and months of torture that I will not go into here. Let’s just say, it was hell.
After I left him, he tried to make contact.
In the months following, it was Valentine’s Day. I was at work. The secretaries called. I should come to the office, I had a delivery. When I got to the front office, I saw a huge arrangement of red roses sitting at the counter. I felt sick. My gut felt like someone had jabbed a knife in it. I asked my friend, Debby to read the card, but not to read it out loud to me. I didn’t want to hear it.
She told me, it was from him. Hasatan #2.
It made me frightened, sad, and ill simultaneously.
No wonder I hate Valentine’s Day
... and flowers.
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