So, this happened:
The Canadian One lies on the bed, attempting to nap. I lie down beside him, wide awake, waving my iPhone around.
Me: ‘Wanna see pictures of my flower?’
He opens his eyes.
Him: ‘Suuuure. Which flowers?’
Me: ‘The one in the kitchen.’
Him: ‘You took pictures of our flowers?’
Me: ‘WE don’t have any flowers. I have a flower. You have no flower.’
I show him two pictures of my flower.
Him (deadpan): ‘Lovely.’
He closes his eyes.
Me: ‘I have twenty more.’
He opens his eyes and looks at me.
Oh come on!! Don’t judge me! If HE doesn’t look at my flower pictures, WHO will?!
Let me tell you how I ended up with a flower in the first place.
About two weeks ago, me, The Canadian One and The Canadian One’s British Friend (who I”ve know for two years longer than I’ve known The Canadian One mind you) went to a music gig. We were in the part of Seoul where women with buckets and single roses wander from bar to bar, scurrying through the establishment in an effort to convince men to buy their girls a flower. It’s such a ubiquitous sighting, it rarely registers with me but on this particular night it did. And here’s why:
I’m sitting with The Canadian One (TCO) standing next to me and The British Friend (TBF) standing next to him.
Flower Lady approaches, glances at me and turns to TCO.
Flower Lady: ‘Flower for your girlfriend?’
TCO: ‘Oh, I’m not her boyfriend, he is!’ (pointing at TBF)
The British Friend waves her off and she’s gone.
TCO (to me) : ‘He won’t buy you a flower!’(pointing at TBF)
Me: ‘WHAT? You won’t buy me a flower! Why won’t you buy me a flower?!!’ (joking)
TBF: ‘Fine, here.’
He hands me $2.
TBF: ‘Buy your own flower!’
I turn to TCO.
Me: ‘He gave me $2!! Should I keep it?’
TCO takes the $2 off me and flags down Flower Lady.
TCO: ‘How much are the flowers?’
Flower Lady: ‘$5.’
TCO: ‘We have $2.’
Flower Lady digs deep into her bucket, pulls out a small flower and hands it to TCO. He gives her the money and presents me with my flower. A very small flower. A tiny flower. I take the plastic off it and it explodes out. Leaves, colour, smell. I loved it. And such is the story of how The Canadian One’s British Friend bought me a flower.