Blame the Florist

Here we have yet another example of man’s infinite capacity for passing the buck. (And by “man,” I mean “mankind,” so don’t get smug, ladies!)

A fellow sends a bouquet–complete with a cuddly stuffed animal and a love note–to his girlfriend. What’s newsworthy, you ask? The florist sent the receipt to his house. Where his wife found it. Naturally, our Romeo is suing the florist for one million bucks.

Are we missing something here? Do Don Juan’s marital problems really lie at the foot of the florist? The ridiculousness of the situation renders it almost comical, until you really stop and think about the pain that’s been inflicted. And no, I don’t mean the pain of Slick’s embarrassment. Though the couple was already going through a divorce, and the wife was apparently already aware of the girlfriend, it still must have opened up horrible wounds for her to actually be faced with evidence of her husband’s romance. Even the words he wrote on the card were included on the receipt, so she had to read her own husbands’ declaration of love for someone else.

One would hope that, faced with his wife’s reaction, Smarty Pants would have had at least a brief moment of stunned contrition. That this scenario would have shocked him into facing what he’s really doing to this woman that he once, presumably, loved enough to want to share his life with her.

But, like I said, man(kind)’s capacity for denial and finger-pointing is, as always, bottomless.

You know, I have some friends who could use a nice bouquet. I believe I’ll click on over to 1 800 Flowers.

Care to join me?

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One thought on “Blame the Florist

  1. I think it’s wonderful that he’s taken this issue to court — thereby putting himself on public record as an adultering schmuck and rendering himself a Google-able sexual pariah to women everywhere!

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