We were in Costa Rica for Lindsey’s birthday this year, and that morning I surprised her with breakfast in bed...and flowers. She loved the french toast, of course. She always does. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the flowers. She mentioned them upwards of ten times that day, and lamented that she couldn’t take them back to New York with her. It was Kirk Gibson pinch-hitting in the 9th against Oakland.
It was a home run.
I’m almost embarrassed it’s taken me so long to truly understand the usefulness of flowers. Men love football, eating, and spilling on themselves. Women love flowers. Women always love flowers. They’d be fine getting them every day. Yes, women like surprises, but flowers supersede surprises. If it’s Valentine’s Day, she KNOWS she’s supposed to get flowers. Doesn’t mean you should surprise her and get her a desk lamp.
I think the problem is that women are typically so difficult to understand, it’s hard for men to trust how idiot-simple this is. Or maybe it’s that men just don’t have the same kinship with flowers. I know I don’t. Sure they’re nice, and even beautiful sometimes. But you can’t do anything with them. And then a few days later they die. You get more mileage out of a goldfish.
|If you want to see more of Brandon Flowers, get Daisies.|
Got a game you need to watch, for reasons you know you won't be able to explain? Don’t bother trying. Just pick up a bouquet on the way home. And if you really want to knock it out of the park, think ahead, hire a pro, and get her something you know she won’t stop talking about.
Sometimes, it really is that simple.