Flowers ... (#1) ...

... are for Valentine's Day, or any occasion when you want to express your feelings, perhaps even love, for another person. I've always been pretty much of a romantic when it comes to things like this.

Three years ago, I was involved in a romantic relationship with a man for the first time in almost twenty years. Having 'been there done that' many times over, including some failed marriages, I had snipped that potential aspect of my life right out of the picture. I had a number of friends who were of the opposite gender, but shied away from anything else.

I was really looking forward to Valentine's Day, knowing I would see him and we would look deeply into each other's eyes, declare our love -- you know, all those sappy, yet wonderful, things. Well, the day came. He had arrived at Hobby Airport's cab staging lot perhaps a minute or two before me. When I pulled in, I could see him entering the lounge with his set of dominoes under one arm. I don't think he saw my car.

I did not rush into the lounge. (If I had, probably, he would have seen me and wanted me to be his partner. We had a somewhat formidable partnership going back to a time when he was just 'visiting' the staging area. His new car was being painted and cab-readied w/decals, meter, etc., the old one having been totalled on one of our freeways by an idiot driver, landing him in the hospital for a while.

On that occasion, the one of his visit, we 'partnered up' for the very first time. [Dominoes is not really my game, and Houston's cab drivers use very different rules from those I was taught as a child!] And, we were invincible! Pair after pair tried to take us down from our lofty & unbeaten perch, but they were all unsuccessful. What a lot of fun that was!)

Instead, I simply parked my car directly behind his and waited for him to re-appear. I was not willing -- selfishly, I know -- to share him with anyone else that day, and I certainly did not want to spend it playing dominoes!

Well, he did re-appear, just before we were due to be called to the loading zone. He did a huge double-take when he saw me, asking, "How long have you been here?" I replied, "Since two or three minutes after you, maybe. I saw you going into the lounge as I drove in."

Many seconds of awkward silence ensued. No 'looking deeply', no 'declaring', not even a "Happy Valentine's Day" greeting from me to him (or vice versa). It was obvious to me that he had simply forgotten!

"Why is it?" I ask you, that we women -- or maybe it's just this woman? -- seem to always expect the 'significant other' in our lives to be the one to remember!