Nothing says I’m sorry like flowers. Or at least that’s what I thought. As it turns out, a little floral something can make things a whole lot worse.
Last week I was bang out of order with Monsieur P. A big fat apology was in order. I’d already said I was sorry. I’d followed that up with a proper tail-between-my-legs text message too. What was needed now was a grand gesture courtesy of Interflora.
It started with me scouring the internet for an arrangement that fitted the crime. I was on the hunt for something that said I’m genuinely sorry without being OTT – granted I’d been a bit of a prat but I hadn’t invaded Poland or anything. I had to find a masculine-looking bouquet. And I was fairly pleased with what I managed to unearth. The flowers were subtle not showy, in neutral shades, not My Little Pony pink.
Three hours later I got a text message from Monsieur P. The eagle had most definitely landed…
“Are you stupid?! Don’t send me flowers to my office. It’s so embarrassing. I had to walk through the office past all my colleagues with a bouquet. Do boys even send flowers to boys?”
Not exactly the reaction I’d been hoping for.
Guilty As Charged?
For the rest of the day I was dreading coming home. I was convinced I was about to go up against a firing squad. As it turns out though, Monsieur P was very cheery as he walked in the door. It was as if nothing had happened. So I decided to broach the white elephant in room.
“I’m sorry about yesterday – and the flowers.”
“Oh don’t worry it’s all forgotten.”
“Erm, maybe you should think about the sentiment, though.”
“The sentiment was that you felt guilty.”
“No. Well yes. No. But…”
“What’s for dinner, anyway?”
Flipping The Bird Barbershop Style
And right there I learned something new about our relationship. Monsieur P is very of the moment. He likes to sort issues out there and then and then move on. Me, on the other hand, I like to think about things and process them. I guess I can chalk up the whole thing as a relationship learning curve. But one thing’s for sure, I’m glad I am a processor and didn’t act upon the advice one of my colleagues gave me…
“Oh, send him another bunch of flowers. But a really big pink bouquet this time. With a card that reads ‘F*ck You’. Or better still, send a barbershop quartet.”
Okay so help me here people. Is it okay for fellas to send fellas flowers – especially when said fella is your fella? Answers on a postcard, please…
- Barbershop quartets (suttonbarbershopfestival.wordpress.com)