They don't bring me flowers

"You don't bring me flowers anymore" a classic song by Neil Diamond and Barbra Streisand that talks of a love thats died. But I can't even relate with this song. I’ve never received flowers. I just want flowers. I’ve dated a lot, maybe too much. Some would call me a player but would a player want flowers? And I really, really want flowers.

And maybe when I say flowers I actually mean that I want more than a casual make-out, more than a booty call, more than a fling. I want to be wanted for more than just a good time. All I seem to be for men is a good time.

The hard exterior is a ploy. I admit I’m tough, real tough. I don’t quit . . .I never quit. I pretend to be all business, pretend to be a real player but I want flowers.

I admit that I admiringly look at wedding dresses in the window, I tear up watching a chik flik, I smile at cute couples, I dress up when I’m excited for a date, I love playing with kids. I'm softer than I let on.

And I want flowers. Roses. I want a bed of roses, a trail of roses. I want them delivered to me at work, given to me when I answer the door, given to me at dinner. I want them to lead to something romantic, to be something romantic. I want to be surprised with red roses. I want a guy to do this one special thing for me without my asking.

I want them to do it for no reason except that they really like me or may even be falling in love with me. I just want them given with nothing expected in return. I want to smile more from this genuine gesture than I do when they are propositioning me, complimenting my body or flirting with me.

I want to smile because I feel truly admired, truly wanted. I’m not asking for much. I don’t ever want diamonds or other expensive things. I just want a bouquet of roses. Maybe someday I will receive those flowers. But for now I will continue to admire the flowers that others receive and hope to get my own someday. Someday.