The other day I sat down with a couple of friends, intending to fill in some time and avoid any and all responsibilities (I was going to say waste some time, but honestly I consider this the compete opposite. I would go so far as to say that doing a reading from the early 60s surrounding the idea of modern technology is a complete waste of time, but you know, that might offend certain tutors. So I won’t).
The point I’m really trying to get at is that we began talking about the flowers which sat upon our table, and asked ourselves: what exactly is the point of flowers? Why are they considered romantic? What’s so nice about a gift that will only dry up and die mere days after being received? What is so thoughtful about some petals and a stem?
I’m afraid I don’t have any answers for these, but whilst my friends began discussing more alternatively practical gifts that demonstrate an interest in someone, I began to feel annoyed at myself for genuinely liking the idea of receiving flowers. Why? I understand that they are to some extent an ‘easy’ present. A way out of a proper apology or a confession. A way of showing love or adoration, even if you don’t really mean it. They are a cheat’s way of communicating, but I think the fact that they do communicate certain things speaks volumes about the importance of sentiment and how we associate meaning.
I must admit, I wouldn’t want to receive flowers for every birthday, anniversary or Christmas I ever have. That’s not what I mean at all. That is a cop-out. Flowers for a first date though? Or a Valentine’s Day gift? Yes, certainly. There’s something nice about it, something that makes me feel warm inside and something that will definitely help win me over. Perhaps it’s just the idea that someone bothered to buy something for me at all? I’m not sure, but with that said, I don’t think I’d feel the same if they bought me something more practical, despite how much more thoughtful this act might actually be.
So what’s so special about flowers then?
Sentiment, I suppose. It’s ingrained into us. It’s just like how I want to get married one day, in a big white dress with cake and slow-dancing, gorgeous bridesmaids and – dare I say it – flowers. I want to, because even though it’s a ridiculous use of money for a ceremony that does little more than change your name and your relationship status in the eyes of the law (big whoop…), I understand it to be romantic.
Now, I don’t know that I will get married at all, but I think it makes for a good example. Really, what is the point? The point is communication. There are just certain ways we communicate feelings such as romance, and as nonsensical as they may seem, they exist and they are ingrained into vulnerable minds such as mine.
Oh well. I’m happy to be swooned with flowers and the like, even if my friends wish to remind me of how illogical this is. I guess I’m just a sucker for cheap romance…
