The Dead Flowers Girl

Despite my MTV generation attention span, occasionally my attention is kept. It has been a long time since I first encountered the “Dead Flowers” Girl. I will be running into her again this week, and I have no idea what to make of it.

I first contacted her for the reason that boys contact girls…because that is what we do. It is on page one of my “How to be a guy” handbook. Although I am normally relaxed about these things, this girl had one major difference from me. I approached her online (like my generation actually goes places and does things, of course she was online) and told her that I liked her profile, but that we had one difference, and I wanted to know if it was a dealbreaker. Shockingly enough, it was not. She was hardcore in her beliefs, but she was not an ideological bigot. More importantly, she was the first woman I had encountered who was not a schoolteacher or a social worker. She was corporate.

This was hard to reconcile…a borderline trotskeyite that liked capitalism, disliked taxes, and understood and appreciated business. Maybe all my perceptions all this time were wrong. Ruling that out, I figured she was one in a milli-vanillion.

I lived in LA, she lived in New York, so at least there was no pressure when she called me. Except that she was in town visiting her family, who lived across the street from me. It was July 4th, 2006, and nothing says romance like Independence Day (Like I know what that means). No matter how bad the date went, at least their would be fireworks later that night (the ones in the sky, lest her parents think I was being impolite). I walked over to her parents’ condo, and they scattered in a hurry. We hung out for an hour and talked. I do not know if that counts as an actual date, but I am declaring it one.

She went back to NY the next day (not because of anything I said, her plane ticket was already bought). Because I have family and business in NY, we made plans for a second date, dinner in August. We kept in touch by phone, and she did say that she was in a multi-year relationship before she met me. Because of that, I asked her that question that all men need to ask women in this situation…”Are you a basket case?” She told me that she was not, and that her past was totally past, and that she had made a clean break.

I arrived in NY, and several hours after getting off of the plane, we had dinner at one of the loveliest restaurants I have ever eaten at. It is one thing for a woman to be smart and beautiful (I would say brilliant and drop dead gorgeous but giving her a swelled head is not the way to go). It is another for her to speak and me want to listen. I actually cared what she had to say. Perhaps I was tired from the flight. I wonder if she cared what I had to say. Everything was fine…well, in a forced, awkward, uncomfortable, nerve wracking kind of way…but fine nonetheless. As we were rushing to catch the train, she dropped the flowers I had bought her. As we turned around to go get them, a car raced by and ran them over…crushed them into little itty bitty floral pieces.

It was at that moment I knew it would not work. Perhaps she was thinking the same thing. Or maybe she was thinking “wow, that sucks.” I kept thinking this was not a sign, and yet the Guns n Roses song “November Rain” was in my head, complete with the video imagery of the flowers being tossed from the wedding to the funeral. I looked at her and said the only thing I could think of at that moment. “Well, at least I did not get you a puppy or a kitten.”

I went back to LA, and decided to fly her out from NY to LA for our 3rd date. I figured she could stay at her parents, and some women actually would be impressed by a guy who flew them out for dinner. Others would be creeped out. I hoped she was the former. It became irrelevant. Her ex, totally out of the picture, was back. I explained to her that I would have treated her like she was radioactive if I had known this was a possibility. She apologized, but then again, giving someone a second chance is a positive development. Everyone except Rosie O’Donnell can understand this. Just ask Mr. Trump.

For reasons which I do not understand, I decided to keep in touch with her as friends. We had some things in common, and I did enjoy the time I spent with her. We kept in touch sporadically, and I have to say the next few months…no one else caught my interest on that level. As I said, it is tough for a hard charging corporate Wall Street type to date schoolteachers and social workers. My lord they bore me. I imagined calling her up and saying “Listen, about your boyfriend…shove him under a truck and be with me instead.” For once, common sense won out (actually, we kept playing phone tag, so I was spared my own imbecilic idea blowing up). For reasons that are not my business, she broke it off with the other fella again, and insists that this time it is final.

I believe women should be given time to heal, so I gave her 20 minutes before asking her out again. We are having our 3rd date this Friday.

As for where this is going…how the hell should I know? I do know that over time, she has opened up. She has talked more. She has told me about her family (nothing incriminating to get her in trouble). She even laughed at some of my jokes, although she could have been humoring me (which would be sweet anyway). When I tried to plan the evening, everything was forced. By having her plan the evening this time, it will be much more relaxing, and perhaps more comfortable for her.

Perhaps we are too different. Then again, James Carville did marry Mary Matalin. Besides, romance is not the only positive outcome. Perhaps it will just be friendship. I just know that 20 years from now, I hope I still know her in some capacity.

She asked me not to buy her flowers this time. That will not be an issue. She would kill them. Then again, those flowers may be dead, but perhaps something better is slowly but unsurely blooming.

I have often said that my life is a traveling carnival of adventure. To that I say…

“Time to board another plane…Memories of you still remain…This is how my life unravels…as the carnival travels.”

I turn on the news, and see that the weather in NY is ok, except a low pressure system is heading our way. Low pressure…just how I like it. Ok, so I totally have not watched a weather report in years, but it sounds good.

I have reason to suspect she would not be the slightest bit wooed with Marvin Gaye music. Perhaps it was the time she all but expressed this. I could always try Guns n Roses. Nothing says romance like the song “Don’t Cry.” Then again, they do have a song called “Dead Flowers,” another one called “Garden of Eden,” and another one called “The Garden.” This can only mean one thing…I have a crush on Axl Rose.

Oh great, more issues to work out, 3 days before our 3rd date. I will tell myself in my sleep that I do not have a crush on Axl Rose, Rupaul, Bea Arthur, my 35th cousin, or anything else that could result in my kids becoming cannibals…or worse…vegetarians.

As Guns n Roses shifts to Whitesnake’s “Here I go again,” hard rock romantic David Coverdale sings “I don’t know, where I’m going…but I sure know where I’ve been.”

I just want the Dead Flowers Girl to know why I chose tonight of all nights to write about her. I had writer’s block, and nothing political is happening at this hour.

Well, that, and I like her. Even if we are ideological opposites. She has Canadian lineage, and I bleed (hand on heart) blood red, stallion-lily white and royal regal blue. Then again, we are gender opposites as well, and that has actually helped. Enough nonsense. I like her. I cannot figure out why, how, or in what capacity…but I know I like her.

(Tesla’s “Love Song” fades out, the coda so peaceful)…I know…I know…I know…I know…


2 Responses to “The Dead Flowers Girl”

  1. Been There says:

    My wife and I had a very similar courtship. She was seeing a guy when we met. Broke up with him, we went out, got back together with him, broke it off again. Married three years this July.

  2. Josh says:

    Hmmmm…. not a good sign when a woman says not to buy her flowers. Perhaps flying her out was not such a good idea?

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