I Sent Myself Flowers

So my petty ass did something totally expected and not out of the ordinary.

I sent myself flowers. And acted like I didn’t and signed the card from a secret admirer.

Let me explain.

I work with my ex, who dumped me in the middle of a Mandolorian episode. It was completely unexpected but we had been having problems.

And now work has been HELLA BAD. He’s been talking smack about me behind my back and turned our friends all onto his side. We serve on a committee together and it has been suffering because he’s pushing back against everything I bring up in the committee. This mofo was against getting Boy Scouts to volunteer at a fundraiser because I brought it up.

So, through all of this I’ve been professional and silent.

I thought it was gonna end soon and things would get back to the way they were before we dated. We only have to speak to each other during the committee meetings and other than that we work in separate departments.

But this man-child decided it would be a good idea to flirt with a waitress during a dinner meeting and then proceed to not only ask for her number but the number of another girl that a coworker wanted to set him up with.

I don’t care who chooses to go through the five minute wango tango with his broke ass, but he didn’t have to rub it in with salt and extra DD blonde the waitress.

So, I ordered flowers. For myself

And sent them to myself

At work

Signed “xoxo Your Mr Darcy”

Because everyone who knows me knows that a Mr Darcy is my goal. Or that guy from Age of Adaline. Basically any man with a romantic playful side but is also mature and sophisticated.

Has he seen them? I don’t know.

Do I have them prominently featured in the office? Yes.

Our receptionist is the most calm gossip I’ve ever met. She LOVES talking about people’s relationships and when we get deliveries they go to her first.

So she got them and basically had a parade as she walked them to my office.

“Look what came for you!” She cheered as she dropped the purple rose bouquet I ordered.

“What?” I’m a great actress. “You got me flowers?”

“I didn’t.” She was bursting.

“Then who did?” I asked.

“A secret admirer!” She cheered as she handed me the card. I blushed and smiled as I looked over the flowers.

“Oh aren’t these lovely!” She said excitedly.

“They are, I can’t bring them home though. My cat will knock them over in ten minutes.” I looked around my windowless office. “And it would be a shame to keep them in here.”

I looked up at her and beamed.

“Why don’t you put them on the front desk?” I asked politely. “Then everyone can have a little joy to their day and they’ll get plenty of sunshine. Then I’ll bring them back to my office on Monday.”

“Oh aren’t you the sweetest!” She hugged me and I pinned the card up on a wall with other thank you cards from clients.

So now my ex will definitely see them since we only have one entrance and exit in our building. And our receptionist will tell EVERYONE about my secret flowers and how beautiful they are.

I don’t want him back, but he just hurt me so much over these past couple of months that I just wanted a little payback.

Am I wrong?

Probably,

Am I gonna order flowers next month?

Probably.

I’m thinking maybe a little Shakespeare quote on the card next time.

Look, I know this is ridiculous and petty and something a bratty teenager would do in high school; but I’m just tired of him thinking that he’s the best thing that happened to me and that I must be broken because of him.

In truth, I’m not. He was a guy, a guy I loved and imagined a future with, and it was very sudden and shocking when we broke up. It hurt me, a lot more than I thought it would, and when he blatantly asked for that girls number in front of me; I snapped.

I saw the way he smirked at me across the table and how he stared at her ass as she walked away.

It hurt more than he did that because he thought it would hurt me, if he genuinely liked her I would have been better about it. But he doesn’t.

And I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Rage.

Pure, unadulterated, hateful rage.

It was like someone had poured ice over my whole body and I was drowning in it. I felt that coldness seep through my chest and numb my very center; call it what you will, heart, soul, atoms.

Whatever it was, it turned to black ice and I wanted revenge.

For the first time in my life, I hate an ex. Not just find them boring, unappreciative, slightly dumb, or just mean. I genuinely hate him because he thinks he can hurt me for his own amusement whenever he wants.

So, I’m gonna send myself flowers. With some sweet notes. And even if that doesn’t bother him, I’ll still have something pretty on my desk to remind me that I don’t need a man who won’t send me flowers; I just need me.