2018
Valentine’s Day is a time that people give each other presents of some sort, to declare their love for them. The wife often gets some sort of present, and if her husband is a good person, she gets some sort of thoughtful gift. Often, in a marriage, the husband doesn’t get a present per se, but typically is either treated to a special home-cooked meal (though typically, the wife is taken out to dinner, so this is less common than one might think), and/or the woman will give herself sexually, as a treat for the husband.
My awesome wife is a little uncommon in many ways, and Valentine’s Day is no exception. We did the special homecooked meal at least as often as we went out, but she also always got me a card and some sort of candy. Often it was Swedish Fish, a favorite of mine, or Reese Cups, another favorite. She always makes sure she shows me that she loves me.
I remember a few times years back, at least one of them being Valentine’s Day, when my wife gave me flowers. I couldn’t pin down dates, or even the years in which it happened. There were a few different years that she gave me flowers at some point in the year. She did so with a big grin, which I suspect is very similar to the grin I have when I give her flowers. I love to give her flowers because I know that getting them makes her feel special.
I remember feeling awkward when she gave me flowers. What was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to accept them? Was I supposed to be all manly and refuse them, and tell her she should keep them for herself to enjoy? I remember asking her why flowers, of all things to give me, and she said something along the lines of that she loves me and wanted to give me flowers too. Guys, she said, get flowers too.
I don’t know any guys who get flowers from the woman in their life. Exceptions exist, of course. Death of a loved one, perhaps?
She intended it for good, and to make me smile, and I knew it then, as I know it now. So, I did smile, because the fact that she was thinking about me, and wanted to make me smile, made me happy.
That didn’t remove the thoughts from my head. Why had she chosen flowers? Did she think I was a girl or something? Everyone knows girls get flowers. Was there something she was thinking, subconsciously, that moved her to get flowers for me, rather than something manlier, like a candy bar, a screwdriver, or some socks?
I smelled them because when you give someone flowers, they always smell them, and if they don’t, the person who gave them the flowers always seems to say, “Don’t forget to smell them!”.
Besides, I have always liked the soft and pretty scents that can be found in flowers. Smelling flowers has always made me feel good. But, though getting them, and smelling them made me feel good, I still wondered why she gave them to me, and, why getting flowers, a girly thing, made me feel so good?
Fast forward to 2018, and into the reality that I’m transgender. Valentine’s Day came and went again this year. As with each previous year, my wife had a card for me (and the card this year was a very sweet card indeed!) and Reese Cups. She cooked us a very tasty steak dinner. I didn’t even have to eat the green beans (I really don’t like vegetables) she made!
But you know what? I was thinking the next morning after the holiday, that I now realized something I should have realized years ago. I like getting flowers. Getting flowers makes me feel warm inside. I’ve not yet been given flowers since we came to understand what has been going on inside me all these years. You know what? I can’t wait!
