I know it’s hard for some factions of the universe to accept, but not all women are into jewelry. Not all women cream themselves over the very mention of chocolate, either. And some women wouldn’t even know what to do if their intended showed up on their doorstep clutching a $4.99 bouquet from Trader Joe’s, ostensibly to brighten up their day. Flowers just don’t do for it some women.
I used to be one of these women, but let me explain. For most of my life, there were only two situations I knew of where a man would give a woman flowers:
- Valentine’s Day (roses)
- When he fucked up
These are both gross situations that are full-on gross to get flowers in—no offense if you like a big, stupid rose bouquet on V-Day or a dozen carnations makes up for a guy fucking your best friend or whatever, but no. Try to do things any other way just one time. And because I literally never knew a dude who thought to give flowers in any other situation (deep South, only knew stupid people) I had no idea you could just give someone flowers for no reason. Just because.
Also I had no idea you could just give flowers to yourself. That you could have a bunch of flowers in your house if you wanted. Like whichever ones you wanted! Sky’s the limit! Whatever you can afford! This is what happens when you grow up next to a 6-year-old girl who calls her mom a hussy. Fresh flowers simply aren’t part of the equation. Hussies do love flowers, but they simply don’t have them lying around because, as you know, they are too busy being so brazen, which we as a society tend not to like to reward.
But here’s the thing: The history of giving flowers, which dates back thousands of years in numerous cultures, is pretty sweet. If it’s true that Victorians used flowers instead of expressing actual emotions, then that’s the sort of thing I can get behind. If I’d known different flowers mean different, highly specific things like secret little codes, I would have had a lot more respect for them much sooner.
For instance, according to a history of the meaning of flowers at Smithsonian Gardens, an almost soap-opera level range of feeling could once be conveyed through these objects: bluebells meant kindness, peonies, bashfulness, tulips expressed passion, and rhododendron intimated danger. Myrtle was as good as wishing a bride good luck in her marriage, and purple violet meant your thoughts were occupied with love. All this makes a hurriedly purchased inflated bag of roses one day a year look downright sinister, if not wildly unoriginal. Just as it equally makes the misstep of giving someone you love bleeding hearts, the official funeral flower of Tibet, all the more delicious. (Just like you, I learned this from the movie The Wedding Planner.)
Over at reddit, someone wanted help understanding why we even give women flowers, anyway—ostensibly a man, Fachow, who loves doing so, and who put the question to the women’s forum thusly:
Hello all.
As usually happens throughout life, I have fallen madly in love with a woman. I leave her flowers on a small vase I bought her every morning.
I was asked before by a previous lover why I like giving flowers. I did not know what to say. For now, here is the list I have compiled on why I give flowers:
1). They are good to look at and de-stress. 2). Numerous benefits for mental health. Reduces anxiety, negativity, depression, etc. 3). I want to give her something as beautiful as how she makes me feel.
That’s about all I got. I love flowers, but I feel like I am missing something in the reasoning.
Why do you like receiving flowers? Or what are the best reasons/meanings for giving flowers?
EDIT: Forgot to add. Let me know why you hate getting them as well. Thanks all.
Before we get into the responses, I think his reasoning is fine and good. These are the reasons for giving flowers, and, besides, even if you don’t like flowers, need one even ask why flowers are good? To quote the brilliantly slummy Joe Dirt, “Might as well ask why is a tree good? Why is the sunset good? Why are boobs good?”
But yes, they are also bad, if you are allergic, or just don’t care, or any other number of reasons. I will say in defense of the flower-indifferent that much like not wearing makeup or jewelry, not digging on flowers means you will spend your whole life fielding questions like, “Aren’t you supposed to like flowers if you’re a girl?” “What’s wrong with you?”
