My girlfriend called about an hour ago to tell me that this potential suitor that's been bugging her, showed up unannounced at her house with a giant-ass arrangement of very pretty flowers and a few pieces of chocolate. She's not interested in him, he's very interested in her, and insisted on taking a picture with his camera of her standing with the flowers. She said it was one of the most awkward moments in her life. Thanked him, gave him a tour of her new house, and he left.

And this got me to thinking about a guy I went out with sometime back in the late 90's. The only 'rule' I had for dating was that they make me laugh, and he seemed to fit the bill. Otherwise, I didn't much care how they looked or what they did for a living. I had dated everyone from a guy who picked up airplane wrecks, a farmer (otherwise known as "Kitty Litter Brian"), an accountant, to a real shit bag who broke up with me because I didn't know enough 'important people' in town. Ooooh, wait ... that's another story ...

Anyway, my first date with this guy was pretty snazzy. He picked me up in a limo, gave me a red rose, took me for a nice ride through LoDO (downtown Denver). I remember having a great time, enjoying the company, conversation, and what not. He did mention at the end of the evening that he 'couldn't wait' for me to meet his mom. That kinda put the brakes on a bit for me.

On our second date, he wanted to hold my hand, which was pretty nice. I wasn't horribly offended with a guy taking it slow for once. And instead of just reaching over and sweetly taking it or however that's supposed to work, he yelled, "HAND!!!" and stuck his out. I was startled and didn't know what to do, so I think I just gave me hand over.

One cool thing about our courtship was the flowers he'd send me. Every Friday, I'd have a dozen yellow roses from him, with a sweet note attached. There would be notes in English, Spanish, German and French. And because this was all pre-Google, I'd haul my ass to the library to figure out the words I didn't know.

Eventually, I met his family. He was awfully sweet with emails, cards, letters, a CD he'd found while vacationing in Hawaii, an angel for my collection, and of course, the flowers. I wasn't as in to him as he was me. Such a nice guy, just not the spark I thought I was looking for.

Before I ended 'it' (whatever 'it' was), I got one last dozen yellow roses from him. And the note, true to form, was in another language all together. I couldn't figure out WHICH language it was for the life me. I asked my roommate, she didn't know. I asked the people I worked with, they didn't know.

Finally, one IT guy at my work came by, I showed him the note, and he said, "Ooooh yeah --- that's, uh, Klingon, man" and walked off.

'Scuse me? What just happened??

I'd received yellow roses with a note in Klingon? Wow. Certainly creative, no doubt about that.

Our relationship ended, he went on to get married to someone who presumably had the Klingon translation book all fired up, and we still share friends in common.

I think I have the note somewhere in the boxes I've saved downstairs. Maybe I should dig it up and see what the note really said ... and in the age of Google, I'm certain I could really solve this Scooby Doo mystery.

Edit: Damn, I've found A LOT of Klingon websites. With words you can 'use during every day conversation'. Holy cow!

Labels: dating, flowers, Valentines Day