The Art of Pretending You Don’t Need Flowers

The good morning texts. The flowers. The long phone calls that stretch into sleep. The "text me when you get home" messages. The hand-holding. The constant reassurance.

I roll my eyes at them. I joke about them. I pretend they're unnecessary.

But the truth is, I want all of it.

I want someone to send me a message first thing in the morning so I know, for a brief moment, that I was the first thought to cross their mind.

I want to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation, hearing their voice slowly dissolve into dreams.

I want flowers. Not extravagant bouquets wrapped in silk and ribbon. A handful of wildflowers picked during a walk would be enough. Maybe even more than enough.

I want someone to notice when my smile fades. Someone who worries when I'm upset. Someone who asks what's wrong instead of waiting for me to become quiet enough to disappear.

And if I ever decide to leave, I want someone to stop me.

Not with grand speeches or dramatic promises. Just a hand reaching for mine. A voice calling my name. A hug that says, "Stay."

Because the truth is, every time I left, I secretly waited.

I waited for someone to call my name.

Just once.

I convinced myself that if they did, I would turn around. I would stop walking. I would come back.

But no one ever did.

No one called my name.

They let me go so easily that sometimes it felt as though they had been preparing for my absence long before I arrived. Some replaced me so quickly that I wondered if they had simply been waiting for the door to open.

And maybe that's why I started calling romance cringe.

Maybe it's easier to mock the things you desperately want than admit you've spent years living without them.

Whenever I asked for something small, something tender, it was treated like a joke. Flowers became something to laugh about. Affection became something I was asking too much of.

So eventually I learned to pretend I didn't need any of it.

But I do.

I crave it.

Not because I need grand gestures, but because I want to feel chosen.

I want someone to love the way my eyes light up when they hand me a flower. I want them to think that sparkle is worth creating again and again.

I want to be wanted in all the ordinary ways.

The small ways.

The embarrassingly sincere ways.

So yes, maybe it's cringe.

Maybe wanting flowers, good morning texts, lingering hugs, and someone who can't bear to watch you walk away is cringe.

But if that's cringe, then maybe I've spent too much of my life pretending I was above the very things my heart was quietly begging for.

And maybe what I've been searching for all along wasn't romance.

It was proof that someone would choose to stay.