Not four, five.
Add another to my list: the floral stalker, though he was less of a stalker than a persistent flowery admirer. The flowers had stalks though. (Or stems. What's the difference?)

Now I'm not the sort of girl who is given flowers. Spanners, yes; oddly, a pool cue; and once, a meccano set. Flowers? Nay! Flowers are for high maintenance girls who own hair straighteners. For this reason it was lovely surprise when I slumped home from work one day to find a florist's card on the doormat stating they'd tried to deliver a bouquet but I was out and that they'd therefore left it at the offices next door.

Full of breathless anticipation I hotfooted it to the offices next door where a gum-chewing harpy of a recpetionist told me that yes, they had taken receipt of my bouquet, but that it was thrown out a few hours later on health and safety grounds or something. Seeing my disbelieving (bet the fecker kept it for herself!) and disappointed (my first bouquet and they trashed it!) face she added "lovely big bunch of purple freesias, it was". Yeah, compound my misery by telling me my thrown out bunch consisted of the most beautiful smelling flowers around. I mean, why agree to take in a delivery for someone and then destroy it?

Misery duly compunded I slouched home and on the insistence of my flatmate I phoned the florist who was a little embarrassed that I hadn't actually got the flowers and immediately sent round a new bunch. Beautiful! They contained a mystery card reading "Would you do the honour...?". Er, maybe I would, if I knew what the honour was or who had sent them. I took it as a lovely compliment, especially as they weren't yellow carnations from a garage forecourt (my only flowery tribute to date).

The next morning I arose, deelpy inhaling the scent of my beautiful purple freesias, and there was a knock on the door. On the doorstep stood the florist's delivery driver again, this time clutching a massive bunch of sunflowers.

"Er, I've already got my bunch, thanks", I said.

Lucky me, I got a second lot. Having now run out of vases I plonked them in a pint glass and read the card on which was scrawled "of dinner..."

I still had no notion of who sent my verdant gifts, but evidently it was someone who either didn't know me very well (mostly my courtships involved someone getting me drunk, or me getting someone drunk, and seeing what happened) and who had romantic notions about women of the flowers and dinner variety (and I wasn't going to disabuse him of these - it was a novelty to me). I stuck the pint glass of sunflowers on the mantlepiece and sat on the sofa watching them.

The next day at 8am I was awakened by a banging on the door. It was a bemused looking delivery bloke again, this time touting a massive bunch of red tulips. Gorgeous. The third card read "...or a dance?"

Aha! I had it sussed! My flowery stalker was none other than a bloke I'd met at a ceilidh I regularly attend. He was an amazing dancer but I didn't actually fancy him and I'd just started seeing my current ex (and was vaguely disappointed that current ex wasn't behind the Kew Gardens above my fireplace). I placed the tulips in another pint glass (I was now running out of those too) and awaited further blooming instructions. Turns out three was the magic number, though that was three more than I expected so I was rather pleased. Also, much as I like plants I was gettng to the point of looking at them suspiciously in case there was someone hiding behind them, watching me.

The next time I saw the sender I thanked him for his beautiful offerings and then felt guilty for refusing dinner, which goes to show that women may well have some kind of romantic gesture gland that I need to have surgically removed.

I met him again two months later and he was engaged to another dancer who he married very quickly. There but for the grace of god go I, and I am thankful for that from the bottom of my dark atheist heart.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 1 Feb 2008, 9:56, 9 replies)

How lovely!
I'm not the flower-receiving type either...but He did give me his old cycling helmet - I thought that was very romantic. Especially as there was nothing wrong with it - the helmet was too big for him and I (strangely enough) have a very large head.


Don't feel guilty for refusing dinner - but I do think you should have gone, just for the exercise and a free nosh up. Never feel guilty for saying no.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Fri 1 Feb 2008, 10:08, closed)

What sort of idiot....
...Gives a lady an old cycling helmet as a romantic gift? Erm....

I cannot believe you didn't pick the gum chewing receptionist up by her hair and punch her lights out.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 1 Feb 2008, 10:44, closed)

Wouldn't it be fun...
...to woo a woman with cake? You could even ice messages on the top.

And my wife says I'm not romantic! Tcha!
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Fri 1 Feb 2008, 11:33, closed)

Interflora? No!
Interfauna would be great. Say you're sorry with a chinchilla. Express your love through kittens. Wish someone Happy Birthday with a hamster. Nice.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 1 Feb 2008, 11:42, closed)

I agree with PJM here
She'd be bald if she told that to any of the lasses in my family...
( jim_bob can herd cats., Fri 1 Feb 2008, 11:54, closed)

Well
the offices in question were magazine offices. I put a (free) personal ad in their following edition stating that said magazine steals flowers. Petty, but it made me feel slightly better and also I didn't have to actually confront anyone in person.
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 1 Feb 2008, 12:02, closed)

Say it with mountain bike parts
Although I am a huge sucker for anything fluffy and am not afraid to admit I'd blub like a schoolgirl if I were presented with a kitten/Boxer puppy/Llama etc, my friend Phil (he of builder fame) struck gold when he was presented with a set of Fox 36 Vanilla forks (about £650 worth!) by his lovely lady wife as a wedding gift.

Damn good job he got there first, I'd have proposed if there had been a pair of Fox forx in the offering.
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Fri 1 Feb 2008, 12:05, closed)

my most romantic gift
was getting an invisible shelf. It was disguised as a book and had "ceci n'est pas un livre" written on it. This impressed me hugely given my love of a books (a thousand in my living room and increasing), love of arguments on representation and perceptions of reality, and love of shelves (linked to the books, usually).
( crackhouseceilidhband Fuck off back to Mumsnet, Fri 1 Feb 2008, 12:15, closed)

interfauna, you say?
you've just reminded me of one of my all-time favourite quotes: "for you, gigi, a bouquet of long-stemmed hamsters"
classic.
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Fri 1 Feb 2008, 20:04, closed)