The Man Bought Me Some Damn Flowers

When we first started dating thirteen years ago, I said things that made it seem like I was trying to run him off.

I told him: “Never buy me flowers. They’ll die, so they’re a waste of money.”

Okay, maybe I was trying to run him off. I was twenty-one, and I was scared and lost. I covered up my vulnerability with piercings. I didn’t want to show anyone what I was really feeling inside, so I often chose pain as way to cope.

Mr. H didn’t let that fly. And even though I wasn’t ready for a love story, I didn’t have a choice.

Still, he was always careful never to buy me flowers. After a few years, I brought up the touchy flower subject.

Because, guess what? I wanted the man to buy me some damn flowers.

I remember him laughing, and saying that he was just doing what I told him to do. I explained that it was a barrier I had built to protect myself. Flowers were too sweet for a girl like me…and other nonsense along those lines.

Yesterday evening I got back from the grocery store and Mr. H had just come home from work. So busy in my own head, I didn’t notice them on the counter. I was putting away the groceries when he smiled his gorgeous smile and presented the beautiful, smelly bunch.

The man bought be some damn flowers.

At first I didn’t put two and two together. As many of you know, I got laid off from my job earlier this month. And though I have landed on my feet with a sudden leap into the freelance life, quite a bit of the brain fog from all of the changes this month has stubbornly remained.

So, I had honestly forgotten what day it was. Our 11-year anniversary.

I cried all over my flowers and all over him. He decided not to listen to my bullshit—he bought me something pretty and sweet that would maybe last a week.

Problem was…because of the no flowers rule, we don’t own a single vase. I spent about a half hour creating makeshift homes for my anniversary flowers, gazing at my wonderful husband that doesn’t listen to me through my happy tears.

I don’t really buy flowers, but at least I can write. So, Mr. H…

You know this already, but you are my everything. Every day I’m so damn thankful that you decided to love me.

When I smell these flowers, I think of the impenetrable sweetness of our love. And though these flowers will only live for so long, our love will never wilt.

One day we’ll return to the earth together, but our love will keep on living—reaching for the sun, all lovely and bright. In a world that badly needs a romantic revolution, our love will continue the good fight.