Believe it or not, not every girl wants flowers. I can promise you this. My ex got me flowers (strike one) for Valentine’s, my least favorite holiday (strike two). Hell, I don’t even like recognizing the day when I’m actually in a relationship. I’ve always been under the firm belief that it’s a hallmark holiday. Commercials and sales a constant reminder that for this one day of the year people need to show their appreciation and love for their partner. A make up for all the mornings they left for work without a “good morning, beautiful” and went to bed without a simple “I love you, I’m so glad you’re mine.” A designated day to remind some that hey, you are in a relationship and hey, spoil your damn partner, prove your love for them. Horse shit. I don’t want a gift because society says it’s a must. Screw cupid’s arrow.

Don’t get me wrong. I love seeing friends get excited because their boyfriend bought them flowers. If I’m feeling down, sure, I might actually appreciate them. However, 99.9% of the time, when a guy gets me flowers, my first response is what the hell am I going to do with these? They are all high maintenance. I don’t want to have to remember to water them every other week. Hell, I need an alarm in order to remember to take my birth control, and that’s more pertinent. The bastards that last a few weeks need to be dusted. Dusted! The leaves collect filth like any normal knickknack and surface. And I sure as hell don’t want to double trash bag because they ripped a hole in the bag when they got old and needed to be thrown out. They always rip a hole in the damn bag and yesterday’s coffee grounds always leak out onto the tile. Fucking high maintenance flowers.

When I see flowers, I see wasted money. Money that could have been better spent on a nice juicy hamburger—at least that satisfies my hunger—or the Nike athletic shoes I’ve been drooling over for the past month—help motivate me to get my gym membership on. Am I cruel for thinking like this? Probably. Heartless? Wouldn’t be the first time someone called me a cold bitch.

Nothing says easy like flowers. Go to Meijer’s or call 1-800-flowers and pick out the first that catches your eye. Hell, send the same bunch you bought your mom to your girlfriend. Then slip up that you did. Yeah, that will really make her feel special. It’s the go-to for “I’m sorry” and “I fucked up,” and nothing says I love you like a dozen red roses. Cliché much? If you want to get a girl flowers, put some thought into it at least. Know her favorite and surprise her with them on a completely random day. Key note: completely random day. Get her exotics, something she has never seen let alone received before. Or hell, build a damn garden with a comfortable bench for reading or to enjoy a morning cup of coffee. First and foremost, though, make sure she actually likes flowers.

If a guy gets me flowers, I also immediately think of just how little they know me. I’m not one of those girls that say something but mean something completely different. As in, if I say I don’t like flowers, I mean don’t ever think to get me flowers unless you’ve exhausted all other gift possibilities; and since hamburgers are endless, I’d say that’s an impossibility. How does that childhood pastime go? He loves me, he loves me not? Buy me flowers, I love you not.