The line of men started at the counter of the florist shop wove through the center isle of red floral displays, and out into the mall. There were at least thirty men and one woman waiting to buy flowers for their sweethearts. It was Valentine’s Day.
The shop in the middle of town caters to all sorts of people, but this line intrigued me, not because of the differences in the individuals, but because of the one thing they had in common.
It was four o’clock. The men were stopping by on their way home to by a love present. How sweet is that.
They were tall, short, young, old, and everything in between. Most looked tired and wore rumpled work clothes. Some had construction boots on. I didn’t want to know how they smelled. Several had five-o’clock shadows that made them look unkept more than sexy. A bunch of regular guys going the extra mile to please their woman. I loved it.
I stood transfixed by the sight of the long line-up for love, and for a brief moment I forgot all about the economy, Korea’s itchy bomb finger, Iran and my stiff back. The world seemed perfect.
You gotta love–love.