I mentioned that on my date last weekend, my date brought me flowers. While they were in the double celophane of a grocery store, I have to say they are still lovely. One week later, nothing is drooping, there isn’t pollen all over the table, the cat hasn’t eaten then. Very, lovely flowers.
Then I remember the lovliest rose I ever received. Start the fog machine and imagine this is in cursive writing. I was doing the lighting for a high school play or musical. Somebody, the lighting advisor maybe, brought up a single peach rose that someone had brought me for good luck. It was from Chad, the assistant Speech Coach. He brought it in order to get a foot in the door with me for friendship. THinking back, I have to say WIERDO! CREEPY WIERDO! It was a couple more weeks of adolescent crush on my part, before Chad revealed he was ENGAGED!
The rose, however, was perfect. It bloomed–when do roses actually bloom? It smelled devine. He was the first of (unfortunately) many “Did I forget to mention my girlfriend?” in my dating life thus far. After my anger subsided about finding out about the fiance and him claiming the rose was merely to grease the wheels of friendship, I sat next to him on the floor outside of Huters room. I looked over at him and noticed a disgusting clump of earwax sitting in his ear canal.
YUCK! Why doesn’t your fiance tell you to buy a Q-tip and clean out your ears. You picked a nice rose, but your ears are gross. Which brings me to my 10PM flight to Osco tonight to buy Q-tips. I’ve been out about a week and it was possible that my ears were one day away from frightening off my next boyfriend.
Don’t worry. My ears are clean and the flowers are lovely.