Flowers sucks

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Flowers sucks

Inlägg  Maenrin i fre jun 15, 2012 11:29 pm

Saturday afternoon, and Maenrin found himself gazing at the flowers presented by the flower shop. He had bought plenty a rose and other flowers as well during his years as an active dating adult, but he still found them troubling and hard to understand. The language the flowers spoke, a language every woman seemed to understand and talk, and he never could learn. The meaning of a red rose, yes, quite obvious, and a white lily as well. But a sunny yellow rose, was that so wrong? Or a punky blue one. And had it be a rose at all? There were plenty of many different ones, pretty, sexy and cute alike.

He took a step forwards, closer to the flowers he gazed at, to let someone pass his back. Took a step to the side, to critically observe another window of flowers. Maybe a bouquet? No, maybe that was to try to much. A house plant? To serious, wouldn’t you think?

Flowers – one of the things that made him feel stupid and insecure. FLOWERS. He sighed, ran a frustrated hand trough rich blonde, almost shoulder length hair. Really. Flowers.

The man were tall, had enough of broad shoulders to come across as dominating when needed but without seeming to big and in your face. Slender, with a musculature that were trained only to keep fit and not get body-building heavy. Facial structure that was sculptured in a clean, ordinary way that made it all look… good. A light tan made him look healthy. He carried himself with an air that screamed of easy confidence, relaxed elegance, and an amused cockiness that was easy to drag out.
He was clad in a pair of jeans, belted with some discrete strap with a designer’s logo. A simple cotton t-shirt, white, and the neckline carried a pair of black sunglasses. A dark blue jacket and shiny leather shoes.

The son of a hotel mogul, if one cared enough to keep watch of the rich and the high society.

“Uh”, the man finally turned away from the confusing flowers, green eyes searching for someone to ask for advice. “Right okay, I’m going for a date. Might end up a bit late, but it’s all causal and relaxed. What flower would be suitable? It’s the third date, if it matters.” Fingers dug into the jean’s pockets, in a relaxed, almost youthful way. The look the flower shop worker got was friendly, mildly curious but also the hint of a stress, get it done now, and make it right and good under the shallow mask of friendliness.

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