So the other day I was scrolling through Pinterest looking for date ideas when I saw this post about comparing love to flowers. Thought to myself, “Hey, that’s kinda neat.” Grabbed my notebook, poured some coffee, and sat at my cluttered kitchen table ready to crack this. Spoiler: it took all my brain juice.
The Starter Struggle
Started scribbling obvious stuff first. Roses mean love, right? Classic. Wrote “Love is like a rose – pretty but thorny.” Immediately groaned. That’s the oldest cliché ever. My pen just hovered over the page like a confused helicopter. Clicked my tongue, crossed it out hard enough to rip the paper a little.
Coffee Break Chaos
Refilled my mug, stared out the window at my sad little herb garden. Watched my droopy basil plant and went off-track. “Love’s like neglected basil – crispy at the edges without attention.” Chuckled at how stupid that sounded. Nearly spilled coffee flipping to a fresh page. Back to flowers, woman! Focus!
The Weird Comparisons
Right then, decided to list random flowers and force connections:
- Sunflowers: “Love turns you into a sunflower – always chasing their light.” Not bad, actually felt kinda proud here.
- Cacti: Got stuck. Ended up with “Love’s sharp like a cactus spine… but hey, it stores water for dry spells?” WTF. Deleted that hot mess immediately.
- Dandelions: “Love’s stubborn as lawn weeds – you stomp it down, it pops back up smiling.” Snorted at my own nonsense. Still kept it though.
Real-Life Test Run
That night, told my partner the sunflower line during dinner. They blinked, paused chewing their broccoli, then deadpanned, “So I’m your personal sun now? Pay my light bill.” Laughed so hard I choked. Lesson learned: metaphors don’t work with mouthfuls of vegetables.
The Final Takedown
Next morning, reviewed my whole list. Half sounded ridiculous. Crossed out everything except:
- Tulips: “Love’s like spring tulips – shows up bright after you survive the damn winter.”
- Forget-me-nots: “Real love? Those tiny blue flowers that grow where you least expect ’em.”
Tore out the other pages and thought, screw it. Real love’s messy like my crumpled-up notes anyway. At least now I know romance isn’t my Shakespeare moment. Pass the coffee.
