A Man Carrying Flowers

It seems that a man carrying flowers also carries a sign saying: “I’m approachable. Approach me.”

In general, approachability is considered to be an asset, but then that depends on who’s doing the approaching.

I had just strolled out of London’s Covent Garden Flower Market with a fresh bunch of lush sunflowers for my girlfriend. Buoyed by the response I knew I'd receive from her, I walked up one side of a side street towards South Lambeth Road while a small group of schoolgirls walked down the other. I wouldn’t have known they were there if not for the fact that one of them shouted a vulgarity at the top of her lungs. Let’s just say that she was loudly mistaking someone for a part of a woman’s anatomy (clue: not a tit). I turned to find that, surprisingly, that someone was me.

Dumbstruck by this seemingly unsolicited speaking of mind, I carried on up the road, uncharacteristically shocked into speechlessness. Seconds later she repeated herself, I suppose so as to make sure that this important opinion of hers hadn’t been mistaken for, say, ‘Good day to you kind sir. What a lovely bunch of flowers you’re carrying’.

Now, I can’t quite be certain on this one, but I can only assume that she felt affronted by what might be seen in some circles as my wanton disregard for what a 'real' man should or shouldn’t be doing, a subject on which she, in her no more than sixteen years on this planet, is evidently an expert.

Fifteen minutes later (exactly how long it took me to recover and come up with a belated smart retort), I turned a corner on a quiet street, and was met by a woman walking towards me who was clearly lost in thought. She clocked the flowers, then she clocked who was carrying them.

“Are they for me?” she said, and smiled a smile that made the previous abuse worthwhile. I smiled back instantly.

I can only assume what would have happened minus my floral accompaniment, but I doubt that that kind of woman (she was damn hot!) would have said a word to this man on that quiet street corner without the flowers acting as a social catalyst.

So, it seems that interactions with London strangers can be about more than wanting directions, wanting money, Hampstead Heath, or the giving away of crap free newspapers.

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