Just Because Flowers= Instant Gratification

So the absolute worst thing about being single?

Having to buy your own flowers. Roses. To be exact.

Oh-kay. Fine. So I needed them for the broker’s open house tomorrow, but still. (add in a huffy breath, if you wouldn’t mind). I had to buy them myself. Now, I’m convinced (mostly, I think in that grass is always greener on the other side of the fence thing here) that if I were together, or married, dating, or at least sleeping with someone (sleeping, in the fun nekkid sense; not the relaxing, naked sense) they’d have brought me the flowers. Out of kindness. Or thanks. Or for the sheer reason that they want to get me nekkid again, so they’re sucking up, as they know I love love love flowers, and clearly, this could be the way.

If you ask the guy who sent me flowers out of the blue for my birthday last year, for the scant period of time we dated, he did indeed profit from said roses. All 31 of them that got sent to the house. But. I think I’m losing the plot here. And since he turned out to not only be a troll, but also really small in the way only a guy can be small (but, huge wallet - totally didn’t even out) I think we’ll pass on further comments regarding him.

And, get back to …… ME. So I went to Walmart. The Super Walmart, that opened not too long ago, and while the freaky lady with no teeth to speak of accosted us when we got through the door, and, the lemons looked horrendous, they were having a HUGE killer deal on roses. Which I’m using to grace the dining table, set for four, if any of you would like to stop by. Only, if you do, don’t touch anything. I. Mean. Anything.

I bought grapefruit and clementine oranges to go in the big bowl on the counter, to bring out the zeal of the green countertops, and white and yellow roses - it says welcoming, and warm; thoughtful, friendly, and a little zip. But not red. Red roses scream too much Buy This House!!! I’m Fucking Desperate! Whereas yellow and white? Exude that whole…I’m for sale, but I don’t have to be. Just look. Oh, and, if you want me? You’re going to pay full price.

At least, that’s what I’m going with.

While kicking myself for not even being taken enough for someone to get me the flowers even if they were really getting them for the open house. At this point, I’m not picky. I mean, I’m not getting any anyway, flowers, or the other - so just having a strange man deliver flowers to go on a table, who doesn’t want anything whatsoever to do with me might still get lucky.

Unless he’s a total troll. And small. Though I’m not sure how you work that into a conversation…though really, it should be a requirment. You know. Like some major or minor surgeries are.

I’m blonde, blue eyed, and I have a really small penis. But, I give great oral.

Or, I’m blonde, blue eyed, and I’m not circumsized. (for the record? hoods belong in the inner city, or on the back of sweatshirts. not anywhere near my mouth)

Even better though, I think I might even take: I’m blonde, blue eyed, give great oral, love to buy flowers, but, I’ve a small penis.

THAT guy just might make it through the door.

Naturally, that puts me right back at the beginning - I dated THAT guy, and where did it get me? No closer to ending the draught that’s plagued this side of the country for quite some time, and I STILL don’t see any flowers that I didn’t have to buy myself.

For that guy who says if you want them that badly buy them for yourself, you’ll still love them? Trust me on this one: you so don’t. You cannot duplicate the surprise, the fun, the …. resulting oral of the Just Because Flowers.

So. Be a Man. Stop on your way home. Count on a blowjob. Buy. Her. Flowers.