I briefly pawed at them and then awkwardly stuffed the otherwise beautiful bouquet of flowers on the floorboard of my new boyfriend’s car. Poor guy thought I would like flowers but instead was in a car (and subsequent 3-year relationship) with a girl, who hates flowers. My current man knows me more than to pass off a vase of flowers as love for me. Gym Hottie knows the practical way to my heart and it doesn’t involve cut flower food.
Flowers Flowers die. They cost money and they eventually die. What kinda warped idea of love you tryin’ to sell me with flowers? From there, I’m also to preserve it. Flowers are kinda like puppies and puppies are, like, the worst thing to have. I have two little humans taunting me for sustenance so please don’t add flowers to that list.
Gifts I tell you what: turn around in the opposite direction of the flower shop and go down the candy aisle. Something, anything from this aisle will make me excited and not hate you for wasting it on (eventually) dead flowers. You really can’t go wrong with Rolos. To be clear, anything dark chocolate because that shit’s healthy. You know we’re always on a diet.
Dinner Nothing gets me all hot and bothered like not having to bother with a hot stove. GH surprised me to delivery pizza the other night so dinner was taken care of for once. It wasn’t Olive Garden fancy but it was dinner nonetheless. After that dinner rescue, he just seriously earned himself a “dessert” coupon, ifyouknowwhatimean.
Alone time Sometimes you don’t want to be chased or interrogated about your feelings or what the kids did to piss you off. Alone time means actually being alone without a child crying at your feet or that 5-minute bathroom venture. GH let me take a nap right before he surprised me with that ultra fancy pizza dinner while he stayed up with the no-nap toddler and cranky baby. I woke up refreshed, dinner, and didn’t want to choke anyone. We all win.
Sweet-nothings Complimenting a lady-gal goes a long way. Specific and genuine compliments are nice. I kinda like nice. Other times, I just wanna be told how good my ass looks in the second-day yoga pants I’m wearing. Tell me my hair looks good even with all the baby drool and toddler peanut butter offerings. GH is quite up to par with this and he makes me feel very special. My ass. I mean, my ass feels special.
If you have gotten this far then you really should seek alternate advice for relationships because I am the shitty wife. I’m practically immune to the romantic comedy idea of love and courtship. I was never sold on diamonds or boxed candy (except anything caramel/chocolate combo). If it doesn’t feed or energize me, I’m just not that into it.
- Don’t forget her birthday. EVER.
- Don’t gift anything exercise- or-beauty-related. EVER.
- Don’t ask about her hygiene or lack thereof.
- Realize not all women are the same.