The Flower Man
by Will Bailey
I like flowers. Shocking, isn’t it? Most men wouldn’t be caught dead with flowers. Well, actually they might be. Because, you know…funerals. Wow. That just got real dark, real fast. Quick, on the count of three, think of something light and pleasing. One, two, three: Bunnies Eating Marshmallows! That’s better. Back to flowers. I’m not ashamed to admit that I enjoy their presence. They are colorful, calming and mask the stench of garbage. After all, isn’t that what life is all about? Masking The Stench Of Garbage? Man, that’s deep. I should crochet that onto a hand towel and sell it to Bed Bath & Beyond. I bet they’d sell like hot cakes, or hot towels – anything hot, really. I guess what I’m trying to say is I think it’s high time we did away with the silly stigma that flowers are for girls, and action figures covered in motor oil are for boys. But just for the sake of argument, I would posit that flowers are intrinsically manly. Think about it: they’re obsessed with pollination, they drink like crazy and some of them wear spikes on their stems and even eat insects. How rad is that? To be completely honest, I feel a little short changed by “society” for making it common practice for men to buy women flowers, and not the other way around. So what if instead of a new video game or suitcase filled with lug nuts I just want a nice big bunch of flowers? Does that make me some sort of agitator? That was a rhetorical question.