20.. err 30!

My ex was prone to romantic gestures, because he knew I loved them, in spite of my exhortations to the contrary. [It is a sign that I’m well and truly over him that I type up this post without crippling nostalgia and sadness, but merely as one of the multitude of funny things that have happened to me over the course of my lifetime.]

I had been with ParserPile for just about 5 months, when I turned 30. It was a big deal, because for the very first time in my life after childhood, I was feeling somewhat secure and content. I had a job, my parents were well and happy, and the ex was stationed in Mumbai, and thus was actually living with us. It was perfect.

I reached the office that morning, and was surprised to see a ginormous bunch of red roses at my desk. This was before people started talking to me, so apart from a few curious looks (from the few people actually in the office early that morning), I didn’t get ribbed much. I exclaimed softly, and my team lead smiled and wished me a happy birthday. He saw me look at the flowers in surprise, and nodded saying they were for me, adding that I was welcome.

That sent me from the atmosphere of surprise to the stratosphere of absolute shock. WHAT?! He then grinned and said they had arrived by messenger earlier, and he didn’t know who they were from. Not with a little relief, I ran to the cafe and found an empty plastic container to serve as a vase for the flowers. And left them there till I could take them home.

By the time I reached home, I had spoken to the ex and figured out they were from him. I was elated. He was not. Why? Because he has ordered 30 blooms, and there were only 20 in my bouquet. I was too happy to care, but he was miffed, so he said he would take it up with the company the next day. Sure thing, I said, and went off to admire my gorgeous flowers in glee.

The next day dawned without incident, and I was still on a happy high. I danced into the office, and settled into work as usual. Towards midday though, a colleague tapped me on my shoulder, and pointed to the door, saying someone was asking for me. I looked around in surprised enquiry, and the colour drained from my face.

At the door, there was a delivery person with a bouquet of red roses. And this time the office was full, and huge curious grins were on most faces. I had to walk up to the guy in full view of everyone and accept not only a bouquet of red roses AGAIN, but a lengthy apology for the incomplete bouquet of the previous day.

I called the ex up in an embarrassed huff, because I was getting sniggered at for having a “secret admirer”. Why couldn’t you have asked for a refund, I asked in high dudgeon. 30 is 30, said the smug voice on the other side.

Thank goodness it only comes once.


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