personal essays, relationships

But It’s Okay If You Do

I take pride in being independent enough to fend for myself.

My lifestyle may be less financially secure than others, but I’m comfortable for now. I have more clothes than I need, food in my stomach, and a warm bed waiting for me at night. The rest is just excess.

I don’t expect to be taken care of, because I take care of myself. I don’t ask for much, because I have everything I need. And I don’t need material things, because I really only want you.

But last week, flowers were waiting for me at home.

It was Saturday, and I hadn’t done anything special to deserve them. I was sick, and they cheered me up a bit, because what girl doesn’t like surprise gifts? Not at all expected, but very much appreciated.

I used to hate flowers.

Sure, they’re pretty to look at. But they die so quickly from my black thumb, and I never understood why people wasted money on a plant that was so expensive and wouldn’t last more than a few days.

I don’t feel that way anymore.

Maybe it was the thought that flowers were such a cliche gift on holidays and anniversaries that deterred me from ever wanting them. I had only received them in the past for birthdays or Valentine’s Days, and once or twice as an apology – because clearly roses fix the problem.

So the first time I got flowers “just because”, they held an entirely different meaning.

They weren’t roses or carnations that were picked because of popularity; they were orchids, a flower chosen because of their longevity (because let’s be honest, I wouldn’t remember to water them every day). And they weren’t red or pink like most prefer; they were purple, my favorite color.

I’ve never liked material gifts because they usually aren’t thoughtfully given, but this time it was the most thoughtful gift I’d gotten in a relationship.

This isn’t a love letter, or a way to brag to the world about “how lucky I am to have the best boyfriend ever” (even though I did get lucky enough to find such an awesome guy). It’s a thank you for proving to me that it truly is the little things that mean the most. It’s a reminder to other girls that even though they may be independent enough to take care of themselves, sometimes it’s okay to let someone else take care of them too.

You don’t have to pay for my meals, or wash my clothes. You don’t have to drive me to work, orĀ open my doors, or cook me dinner. And you don’t have to buy me flowers.

But, it’s okay if you do.


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