ah, valentine's day. hope it wasn't too painful for you. when i got off the train to go to work this morning and saw a girl clutching a white teddy bear wrapped up in clear cellophane, secured with a big red bow, i knew it was likely the day could get gag-worthy. i mean, i work in a call centre. which, interestingly enough, is right next door to another call centre i used to work in nearly ten years ago. how depressing. anyway, the reason i bring that other call centre up is beacuse it epitomised the worse ever atmosphere a girl could be in during valentines day. let me take you back, and paint a picture for you -

i had met the love of my life eight mere months ago, and already we'd been apart for two and a half of them - he was on a pre-planned overseas trip with his brother. i have since come to realise that the fourteen month period i worked at this call centre was the lowest period in my life. i was lovesick, devoid of personality, and quite dull as a result. the only thing about me that didn't desert me was my keen sense of observation, thank god. anyway. back to the point. valentines day.

this call centre was probably what cosmo was talking about in the smug-married-couples dinner party scene in 'bridget jones' diary' - you know, 'offices full of single girls over thirty — fine physical specimens, but they just can’t seem to hold down a chap'. anyway, come valentines day the whole place had this electric anticipation in the air, and it was painful. especially watching the alpha-female (whose name thankfully escapes me) receive box after box of very expensive long-stemmed rose arrangements and dismiss them to a pile on a spare desk. oh, there were rumours about her... about how many of those she bought for herself, about how many were from the ceo, about how many were from other women's husbands... she was like a raven-maned, immaculately dressed, killer make-up wearing praying mantis (and just as skinny, too).

anyhoo. that afternoon i found a bunch of flowers on my doorstep - red roses, baby's breath, wrapped in hideously floral paper. there was a card - 'love you and miss you, see you soon' or something to that effect. it didn't matter what the words were. even though the roses were long dead, their little heads bowing to the ground all sapped by the heat (though baby's breath was still kicking - that stuff's indestructible), i didn't care - mark had sent me flowers, and not to my work where it was all about showing off. all excitement, i rang my best friend (who also happened to be going out with mark's brother). and guess what.
she'd gotten the same flowers. and the same card. with the same words in.
and the penny dropped.
we'd both gotten a bunch of flowers on valentines day from the man who would become our future father-in-law.

today i got a bunch of flowers at work, in the call centre next door to the one i worked at for the lowest fourteen month period in my life, ten years ago. they're from mark. they're lillies.
thanks, babe. love you, too.

they are in a vase at the moment, although i must say i have no knack whatsoever for flower arranging. i'm not just saying that. case in point - when i used to live on campus at monash uni, i went across to the uni markets one thursday and bought myself a bunch of poppies. i put them in a vase on my window sill and was sitting at my desk enjoying them when there was a knock at my door. a friend of mine walked in, pointed at the flowers and turned to me. just as i was about to say 'hey, i'm a nineties woman and i buy flowers for myself, thanks very much!', he said 'nice flowers. what happened to them?'