how very lucky to be a girl

The phone rang in my office at 3:12PM on Monday.  It was the receptionist.  I had a package in the lobby that required my signature.

“What package”, I asked, “I’m not expecting any package.”

“Flowers, I think,” the receptionist responded.

Hmmn.  Who would send me flowers?  I did just return from a month of tremendously challenging work in LA.  There were a lot of egos to stroke and personalities to keep happy in an extremely stressful environment.  I figured they were from a colleague.  If it was even flowers.  Or even for me.

I called the intern and explained that the receptionist had called to tell me there was something for me in the lobby, but that I wasn’t expecting anything.  I asked if she wouldn’t mind going down to sign for whatever it was and if she might also take it to whomever it belonged.

A few minutes later I saw two legs, a torso and a face concealed by an enormous package outside my office.  The intern made her way in the door and just as I saw the flowers I heard her voice as she said, “This is a good package.”

Yes it was.  A dozen powerfully fragrant long-stemmed and perfect red roses stood at attention in a glass vase, peeping out from behind the plastic wrapping and bows that had been tied around it.

So which one of my colleagues had sent them?  I gingerly unwrapped the plastic, fearful that anything more urgent would result in a desk covered with flower water.  Once removed, a card sat nestled between two roses.  I opened it.

Staci,
I can’t get you out of my head.
xo

It was from Wednesday’s Child.  My stomach began doing somersaults and my eyes watered.  Why did this make me want to cry?  I wasn’t sure, and I wasn’t sure what to do.

I reached out to a friend.

Are you going to call him to say thanks?

I guess so.  I don’t want to.  I’m not ready to talk to him.  Although I may not have his number anymore…In that case, I’ll send an e-mail.

This deserves a phone call, Stac.

That upset me.

So does breaking up with someone.

I didn’t care if I still had his number or not.  I wasn’t ready to speak to him, least of all initiate the call.  But I certainly owed him thanks.  I didn’t know what to write.  I was flooded with far too much emotion for something that had only been one date.  But I’d liked him.  We’d had a great rapport and connection.  I wasn’t physically attracted to him, but I thought that perhaps that would come in time.  And I’d been really looking forward to spending more time with him when he’d yanked the carpet out from under me.  All these thoughts were racing through my head when I realized that simplicity was probably best.

Thank you for the beautiful roses and note.
It was an unexpected and sweet surprise.
Staci

He wrote back immediately.

Hi Staci,
I’m glad you like the roses. It’s a gesture in the hopes you and I could try again.

I haven’t responded yet.  I will.  But I need to take some time to think about it.  I do believe that he deserves a second chance, but I am apprehensive about the fact that he had been unable to understand or accept my busy schedule, one that I had warned him about in advance.  He’d said that I’d made him feel as if I were doing him a favor by getting together with him.  The truth is, I kind of was.  I had wanted nothing more than a night off, at home, relaxing, followed by a good nights sleep.  But I’d also wanted to see him.  I gave up the only night off I would have in three weeks to do that.  I’d never told him that – he only knew that I hadn’t been available every other night.  So it’s not that I felt I was doing this big favor for which I should be rewarded.  Far from it.  But I had thought that he might see just how busy I’d been and that I’d liked him enough to want to make it a point to see him.

That hadn’t happened.  Instead, he broke up with me.  By text.  And now he’d like another chance and I’m getting on a plane again tomorrow and come back to a completely booked schedule until next Wednesday.

But, he’s Wednesday’s Child, so that’s his day, if he wants it.

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