I Feel Dirty -- OR-- How I Was Just Emasculated By The Florist

You know the term ‘penis envy’? What’s the female equivalent of that? Whatever it is, I feel like I just experienced it.  And it happened at the florist’s. I was totally just emasculated, and felt a deep feeling of Penis Envy, although not for a bigger penis (or any penis at all for that matter). No. What I felt was like a total loser for not having a bigger budget and getting bigger flowers. Or at least more expensive ones. Rat bastards.

Kealhoa and I want to have a good party, but we’re putting most of the budget into the food and alcohol and the really great location (The JW Marriott). I really didn’t want to spend a fortune on flowers. As pretty as they are, they’re a suck of money. They look pretty but you can’t eat or drink them and they die in a few days. I want people happily full, drinking till they’re dancing and stupid, and celebrating in a great place. So I decided to cut back on the flower budget. Surely I should be able to get a decent bouquet for my sister and me for a couple of hundred dollars…and buy some flowers to put in the centerpieces. It’ll all be classy and sophisticated and save money for the more important things (like flourless chocolate cake).

Today I walked into the “Appointment Only” florist and should’ve known by that sign alone that I was out of my league.

I entered a brick building/warehouse and opened the door to a plushly decorated waiting room. I immediately encountered a Future Bride and her Floral Consultant. The Future Bride was about 22 with tiny perky breasts (from what I could see), wearing a silky skirt and shirt, hair in a happy-horse-like ponytail, and perfectly arched eyebrows and makeup. I was wearing old jeans, a gray t-shirt, and I haven’t washed my hair because it still has yesterday’s style and looks 60% decent. The Floral Consultant was in gray wool pants and a bright green cardigan. I have a feeling it was cashmere.

She was talking to the Future Bride about the furniture they could bring to the event and how she can have a buffet of pies and smores and her fresh apple cider…and I thought “Man, I want a buffet of pies”. Then they started to talk about all the flowers and decorations and I experienced a deep pang of what can only be Penis Envy only I was envying the Future Bride’s youth, dress size, and bottomless checkbook.

I met my consultant and told her that I was looking for two bouquets and maybe some flowers for the centerpieces. Then I told her my budget. There was a slight pause, an inhalation of breath and then she turned and looked longingly at the other Future Bride as if to say “I so wish we were besties”. She controlled herself then said “Well, what about boutonnieres?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling like I was developing a slight rash or something. “The guys really don’t want those.”

Her face contracted as if she’d just swallowed a piece of glass. “Ah. Really. Well, I've never heard of that.”

"Yep. Well. Golly. Uh..." I responded.

The whole meeting took ten minutes and I left with her promise that they would get back to me with an estimate (in about a week). As I left, another Future Bride came in with her Even Planner. They were actually in matching outfits.

Somehow I crossed over into some freaky alternate universe and/or a Twilight Zone episode. That is sooooo not where I belong.

Thank god we’re tasting mai tais today. That’s something I can handle, without feeling like a Flower Loser.