He ‘don’t bring me’ flowers anymore

I don’t get flowers on Valentine’s Day. 

Don’t feel sorry for me, please. I want it that way. 

No, I’m not an old spinster. The first half might be right—a little, depending on the definition. The other half—hardly. My hubby and I are pushing forty years of marriage.

And, for the last umpteen years, he hasn’t given me flowers on Valentine’s Day. I asked him not to. 

Here’s why.

He likes to give me roses, red ones. Have you ever noticed how the price of those things goes through the roof this time of year? It’s no accident. It’s a conspiracy. (No, florists, please. Don’t come after me.)

I’m not about to have my hubby spend oodles more of our hard-earned money than he would have a week earlier or a week later. So, he doesn't.

Instead, he surprises me from time to time—like he did a few months ago. 

I was working at my computer one morning when he was getting ready to leave for work. Sometimes, I’m up that early. Lots of times, these days, I’m not. And, when I’m not, he doesn’t wake me to kiss me good-bye. 

And, that’s okay, too. After this long, I’ll take my sleep when I get it and my kisses some other time. What can I say – it works for us, okay? 

But that morning, for some unknown reason, he left without saying “good-bye,” without giving me a kiss. I called him a little later. 

“Where are you?” 

“Driving.” Translate: “What else would I be doing at this time of day?”

“You didn’t kiss me good-bye.”

“Oh.” Translate: “So what? I don’t kiss you good-bye lots of days.”

“You never leave without kissing me.”

“I forgot.” Translate: “What’s the big deal?”

And, it wasn’t, actually, but I was kind of having fun with this by then, so I wasn’t about to let him think it didn’t matter.

“Well, don’t let it happen again!” Translate: “It’s okay, really.” 

At lunch time, I heard my phone. “Ping.” 

I picked it up, saw I had a text message, and read, “I’m sorry I didn’t kiss you.” 

I smiled so big my cheeks hurt. Boy, he was sweating it.

When hubby got home from work that day, I was still busy working in my office. He came in, grabbed my shoulders, turned me to him, and planted a big, "here-is-this-what-you-wanted?" kind of kiss on my lips. We were both laughing so hard I almost fell out of my desk chair. 

Later, I went to the kitchen to start supper. There on the counter between the coffee pot and the sink was a beautiful single red rose, with greenery and baby’s breath in a bud vase. 

I smiled, this time with a bit of a tear in my eyes. 

“Honey…” 

From the other room: “What?” 

I peeked around the corner. “I love you.” 

He grinned. “I know.”

I don’t get flowers on Valentine’s Day. 

You know what? That’s okay. I’ll take an unexpected floral surprise any other day of the year.

But, he’d better not forget the chocolate-covered caramel pecan candies on Feb. 14, or he’ll have to pay up with a whole bouquet of roses the minute the price drops. 

(By the way, if you can’t get that song out of your head, here are Barbra Streisand and Neil Diamond with “You don’t bring me flowers” anymore.) 

© Ann Tracy Mueller 2012

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