Megan and I were walking downtown one Saturday when she suddenly stopped outside a flower shop.
Inside, her boyfriend, Chris, was standing at the counter with a huge bouquet.
Instead of smiling, Megan sighed.
“Oh no.”
I looked at her.
“What? He’s buying you flowers.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” she said.
I laughed because I assumed she was joking.
Megan explained that Chris only bought elaborate flowers when he was planning some over-the-top romantic weekend.
Dinner reservations.
Candles.
Breakfast in bed.
The whole thing.
“He’s sweet,” she said, “but sometimes I just want to wear sweatpants and watch TV.”
I nodded seriously.
Then I asked, “So why don’t you just tell him you’d rather stay home and put your feet up?”
Megan stared at me.
Then she burst out laughing.
“That is NOT what I meant.”
I frowned.
Apparently, I had taken her complaint very literally.
She tried explaining again, but by that point I was laughing too hard to listen.
A few minutes later, Chris walked out of the flower shop and spotted us.
He proudly held up the bouquet.
“Surprise!”
Megan smiled, kissed him, and thanked him.
Then she leaned toward me and whispered:
“Not one word.”
I promised.
But for the rest of the afternoon, every time I looked at those flowers, I started laughing again.
