Many many moons ago, when my boyfriend and I first started dating (ok, so several months ago),when things were newly romantic and extra sweet. The days when goodnight phone calls averaged 3 hours (versus 30 minutes now). Anyhoo, at that point in time during one of our marathon conversations, he said that if he had to pick a flower that reminded him of me, it would be the daisy.
I gotta admit, I was a little offended: So.....I'm like a weed. How common and boring.
He, being a fresh law school graduate, argued his reasoning: "No, I think daisies are one of the most beautiful flowers..." he went on to explain how they were beautiful in an understated way. A flower that was not nearly as high maintenance as an over-rated exotic flower, and can fit in any garden (i.e., situation) perfectly. A flower that looks happy and, in turn, makes people happy by looking at it.
Hmm... I like it. Although, I guess I would have liked to call myself a bright and cheerful tulip or an elegant calla lily (ha!) , but I'll go with it.
So after a while of playful arguing about why I couldn't possibly be a daisy, I realized that we had distinctly different visions of what a daisy looked like. While I saw this....
He saw this...
It was then that I decided I loved his analogy and I was most definitely honored to be a daisy. His daisy.
Unfortunately, by that time I had already kicked his compliment in the shins. I guess I have a way to doing that. It's a wonder he puts up with me.
Now that I think about it, it could have gone much, much worse. At least he didn't liken me to a cactus. Dry and prickly.
(disclaimer: I love even the so-called "boring" white daisies. Perhaps I was PMSing when this conversation happened. Please refrain from judging me on the high-maintenance-exotic-flower day I was having.)
2 comments:
What a lovely story!
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He he, so sweet. I would like to be called a daisy!
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