I hate roses!  I do not hate plants and I think that flowers are pretty with their shades of color.  Roses are symbolic of new spring, new love, true love.  Roses smell good. In ancient Greece the rose was tied to Aphrodite-the Goddess of Love.  Such pressure.  Now, Aphrodite’s symbol is sold at 7-11!  More daunting still, the rose is identified with the Virgin Mary, our Virgin Mary, the Mother of Jesus.  Good grief.  Can there be any more pressure? Saint Valentine's Day - a Saint - is tied to roses, too!  “Roses are red.”  You know the saying.  Dating back to an epic poem from England, by the mighty Edmund Spenser and his 1590 work called The Faerie Queene.  A love poem, it had to be.  Ok, I feel better.  At least roses have thorns.

So, tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day.  I really love hanging out with my girlfriend, Kylie.  We’ve said “I love you” a lot of times.  No big deal, right?  Do you really need to love someone if you say “I love you?”  I love cars.  I love soaring eagles!  I don’t scream “I love you” when I see them.  Am I required to say “I love you” to validate that I care?  Kylie loves roses.  I know, we saw them at 7-11 today.  “Oh, look Hunter” (Kylie said to me), “what pretty roses' '.  Was this my cue?  Anyway, I purchased two banana-flavored Icee’s and we left the store.  Purchased no less, no more. 

Dinner time.  School night.  Time for us to go our separate ways until light up tomorrow at school.  We kissed.  I said “Goodnight”.  Kylie smiles and says “Love you”.  “Love you too, sweetheart” came from my lips.  Driving home from Kylie’s house, Aphrodite or Cupid or someone got inside my head.  “Roses are the symbol of love...roses are the symbols of love”, a voice in my head whispered.   Such pressure. I opened my wallet and found one bill with the 16th President on it.  Destiny.  Back to 7-11.  Five dollars is plenty for one rose, right?

The female clerk at 7-11 noticed my stare and said:  “You know, Oklahoma’s state flower is the Oklahoma rose.”  What?  Who cares (I thought to myself).  And, Tide is my favorite laundry detergent.  Red, Orange, Yellow, Pink, White, even Blue.  More colors of roses here than a Skittles bag.  Good.  No black.  I know black means death.  I love mob movies, you know.  Yellow means something lame, I think.  Pink is for wussies.  Is white at weddings or funerals, or both?  I don’t know. Orange must be for mutants.  “1 red rose please”, I said to the clerk.  I handed her the “5”.  Now I felt pressure.

Next day. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Kylie”, I said to my sweet.  “Can I copy your Algebra worksheet before class?”  Continuing, I said “and here’s a flower from me to you!”  As I handed her the flower, I saw two thorns.  Suddenly, I didn’t hate roses anymore.