You Don’t Bring Me Flowers…*

…I mean come on.  If you’re not going to put forth the effort, I’m not sure where this relationship is going.

Ahh… the old VD.  Nothing strikes fear into the hearts of young love quite like it.  In truth, I’ve never been a fan of the occasion and yet, it does get me a thinkun about the ancient art of pitching the woo(one must take care when pitching, lest ye get forked**).

Being socially stunted, I myself only have a few “mad skilz” going for me.  My go to move was developed in the old days of junior high.  The classic note:

“Do you like me?  If so, check this box.”

After that I learned the secret of the best cheesecake… ever.  But that really does not work at the bars(seriously, you try getting anorexic weight conscious individuals interested in high calorie taste sensations).

Find a karaoke bar and I might stand a chance at upstaging the dude with the abs of six and the matching I.Q., but again it’s a place and time kind of thing.

There was this one time, in another life, that I did something that did work(though I’m fairly sure that the object of my affection already liked me.  Really, really liked me).  Not exactly original, but it proved to be effective at the time.  I’ve not employed it since, but here it is for you to use, should you truly be desperate:

StalkInquire about the schedule/whereabouts of your intended, and when the opportunity arises leave a single rose(budget permitting) on the door of their residence/car windshield with the following poem by Edmund Waller:

Go, lovely Rose—  
Tell her that wastes her time and me,  
    That now she knows,  
When I resemble her to thee,  
How sweet and fair she seems to be.          
 
    Tell her that ‘s young,  
And shuns to have her graces spied,  
    That hadst thou sprung  
In deserts where no men abide,  
Thou must have uncommended died.   
 
    Small is the worth  
Of beauty from the light retired:  
    Bid her come forth,  
Suffer herself to be desired,  
And not blush so to be admired.   
 
    Then die—that she  
The common fate of all things rare  
    May read in thee;  
How small a part of time they share  
That are so wondrous sweet and fair!   

Yeah, I can’t believe it worked either.  Happy snogging!

 *the song is now in your head, on a loop…good luck with intimacy now, sucka!

**I am never, ever above a horrific pun.

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2 Responses to “You Don’t Bring Me Flowers…*”

  1. I thought you were going to tell about the VD where you brought roses up to the bulletproof glass at the drive-up bank. Because THAT was your best move.

  2. Mas Younon Says:

    We gotta work up to that. Sheesh, ever hear of foreplay? Ever used it? Yeah…me neither.

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