It’s not every day that a man receives a bouquet from his girlfriend. So when I sent roses to my boyfriend’s workplace as a surprise, I thought he would be flustered and happy. The man who greeted me that evening was the exact opposite. The roses ended up in the trash can.
A woman holding roses | Source: FreePik
My boyfriend, Mike, is a mechanic. We’ve been together for about three years, and recently, it felt like the romance was slipping away. I felt like we were stuck in a boring routine, with barely any spark left in our relationship.
A mechanic fixing a car | Source: Pexels
We still loved each other, no doubt. But we were never really present when we were together. Often, we’d end the day in bed, on our phones, with nothing more than a “good night.”
A couple not minding each other | Source: Pexels
I wanted to remind Mike of how much we still love each other, so, one day, I decided to surprise him with a bouquet of roses at work.
I imagined his face lighting up when he saw the card that read, “Just because. Love, your GF.” It was a sweet reminder that I was thinking about him. I sent the flowers to the shop while he was at work, hoping to brighten his day.
A bouquet of roses | Source: Pexels
I waited the whole day for a message from him, thanking me or letting me know he received it. However, nothing came.
That evening, I was so excited to see him. I was practically bouncing with anticipation when he walked through the door. But instead of the smile I expected, he looked furious. Without a word, he threw the roses in my face and then tossed them in the trash.
Roses in a trash can | Source: AmoMama
“Are you kidding me?” he yelled. “Do you know how many jokes I got from the guys today? They teased me non-stop because of those stupid flowers. You embarrassed me!”
A man yelling at a woman | Source: Pexels
My heart shattered into a million pieces. I only wanted to do something nice for him, and here he was, throwing it back in my face – literally. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
I was hurt and sad, but mostly, I was angry. I was determined to teach Mike a lesson. That night, I stayed up crying and thinking of a plan. By the morning, I knew exactly what I was going to do.
A woman in tears | Source: Pexels
The next day, Mike walked into the shop, expecting another round of teasing from his coworkers. Instead, he found something completely different.
Each of his colleagues and even his boss were holding a single tulip, a homemade cookie, and a thoughtful note. The notes read, “Thank you for being a great colleague/boss for the man I love.”
Tulips and cookies | Source: Pexels
As Mike stood in shock, his coworkers began to smile and greet him. “No one’s ever done anything like this for us,” his buddy Joe said, munching on the cookie. “Your girlfriend’s something special, man.”
“So this is what it feels like to receive flowers. No wonder girls love it,” another coworker said. “If my wife gave me flowers, I’d probably frame them,” a third added.
A mechanic smiling at work | Source: FreePik
His boss, Mr. Thompson, patted him on the back. “You’ve got a keeper, Mike. If she loves you this much, I might need to consider you more seriously for the next promotion. A man who can inspire this kind of trust and affection is someone we can trust with more responsibility.”
A boss showing approval | Source: Pexels
Mike’s face turned red, but this time it wasn’t from anger. He looked around the room, seeing his coworkers not as tormentors, but as people genuinely touched by my gesture. He realized he had let his pride and embarrassment get the better of him, and he had taken it out on the person who loved him the most.
A man thinking | Source: Pexels
As the day went on, the atmosphere in the shop changed. Instead of the usual teasing and ribbing, there was a sense of camaraderie and appreciation. Mike realized that his coworkers weren’t teasing him out of malice, but because they were jealous that he had someone who cared so much about him.
After work, Mike went straight to the jewelry store. He bought a ring, specifically the one he knew I would love. He also stopped by the florist to get a huge bouquet of roses, even bigger than the one I had sent him. He had a lot of making up to do.
A person holding rings | Source: Unsplash
That evening, when I got home from work, I found the bouquet waiting for me with a note: “I’m so sorry. I love you more than words can say. Please meet me at our favorite restaurant tonight. Love, Mike.”
My heart raced as I read the note. I brought out my new dress and put on makeup. I wanted to feel beautiful tonight, knowing that we were finally in a good place.
Bouquet of red roses | Source: Pexels
I quickly got ready and headed to the restaurant, my mind swirling with emotions. When I walked in, there he was, looking nervous but determined. He stood up as I approached and took my hands in his.
“I’m so sorry for how I reacted,” he said, his voice sincere and filled with regret. “You were trying to do something beautiful, and I was horrible to you. I promise I’ll never take you for granted again.” I immediately hugged him with watery eyes.
A woman hugging a man | Source: Pexels
Then, right there in the middle of the restaurant, he got down on one knee and pulled out the ring. “Will you marry me?” he asked. Tears streamed down my face, but this time they were tears of joy. “Yes,” I whispered, nodding my head. “Yes, of course, I will.”
A man proposing | Source: Pexels
The entire restaurant erupted in applause, and for the first time in a long while, I felt that spark again. The romance was back, stronger than ever.
We spent the rest of the evening talking about our relationship and how we could keep the romance alive. We made a pact to surprise each other more often and to always communicate openly about our feelings.
A couple celebrating | Source: Pexels
The next day, Mike’s boss called him into the office. Mr. Thompson had heard about the proposal and was genuinely happy for us. He told Mike that he had been considering him for a promotion and that seeing how loved and supported he was by me had sealed the deal.
“Anyone who can inspire this kind of loyalty and love deserves to be in a leadership position,” Mr. Thompson said. “Congratulations, Mike. You’re getting the promotion.”
Two men shaking hands | Source: FreePik
Mike was over the moon. He came home that evening with a big smile on his face and swept me into his arms. “We did it,” he said. “We’re going to start this new chapter together, and I couldn’t be happier.”
A couple hugging | Source: Pexels
Our relationship has been stronger ever since. We still surprise each other with little gestures of love, and we make sure to communicate openly about everything. That one dramatic incident ended up being a turning point for us, reminding us of the importance of love, respect, and appreciation.
A happy couple having a meal | Source: Pexels
So, if you’re ever feeling like the romance is slipping away, don’t be afraid to do something bold and unexpected. Sometimes, it takes a little drama to reignite the spark and remind each other of how much you care. And who knows, you might just end up with a ring on your finger and a promotion at work.
Mike was not the only person who was taught a valuable lesson by someone close to him. A stepmom to a daughter also learned a thing or two about respect the hard way.
My Husband Went on Vacation..
I thought my husband would be there for me when my mom passed away, but instead, he chose a vacation to Hawaii over my grief. Devastated, I faced the funeral alone. But when he returned, he walked into a situation he never expected—a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. I was at work when the doctor’s number flashed on my phone, and somehow, I knew what was coming. My heart sank even before I answered. Mom was gone. Just like that. One minute she was fighting a minor lung infection, and the next… nothing. My world stopped making sense.
I don’t remember much after that. One moment I was sitting in my cubicle, and the next I was home, fumbling with my keys, eyes blurred with tears. John’s car was in the driveway, another one of his “work-from-home” days, which usually meant ESPN muted in the background while he pretended to answer emails.“John?” My voice echoed through the house. “I need you.” He stepped into the kitchen, holding a coffee mug, looking mildly annoyed. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.” I tried to speak, but the words got tangled in my throat. I reached out to him, desperate for comfort. He sighed and gave me a quick, awkward pat on the back, like he was consoling a distant acquaintance. “My mom… she died, John. Mom’s gone.” His grip tightened for a moment. “Oh, wow. That’s… I’m sorry.” Then, just as quickly, he pulled away. “Do you want me to order takeout?
Maybe Thai?” I nodded, numb. The next day, reality hit hard. There was so much to handle—planning the funeral, notifying family, and dealing with a lifetime of memories. As I sat at the kitchen table, buried in lists, I remembered our planned vacation. “John, we’ll need to cancel Hawaii,” I said, looking up from my phone. “The funeral will probably be next week, and—” “Cancel?”
He lowered his newspaper, frowning. “Edith, those tickets were non-refundable. We’d lose a lot of money. Besides, I’ve already booked my golf games.” I stared at him, stunned. “John, my mother just died.” He folded the newspaper with the kind of precision that told me he was more irritated than concerned. “I get that you’re upset, but funerals are for family. I’m just your husband—your cousins won’t even notice I’m not there. You can handle things here, and you know I’m not great with emotional stuff.” It felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “Just my husband?” “You know what I mean,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze and adjusting his tie. “Besides, someone should use those tickets. You can text me if you need anything.” I felt like I was seeing him clearly for the first time in 15 years of marriage. The week that followed was a blur. John occasionally offered a stiff pat on the shoulder or suggested I watch a comedy to lift my mood. But when the day of the funeral came, he was on a plane to Hawaii, posting Instagram stories of sunsets and cocktails. “#LivingMyBestLife,” one caption read. Meanwhile, I buried my mother alone on a rainy Thursday. That night, sitting in an empty house, surrounded by untouched sympathy casseroles, something snapped inside me. I had spent years making excuses for John’s emotional absence. “He’s just not a feelings person,” I would say. “He shows his love in other ways.” But I was done pretending.I called my friend Sarah, a realtor. “Can you list the house for me? Oh, and include John’s Porsche in the deal.” “His Porsche? Eddie, he’ll lose it!” “That’s the point.” The next morning, “potential buyers” started showing up. I sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee, watching as they circled John’s beloved car. When his Uber finally pulled into the driveway, I couldn’t help but smile. It was showtime. John stormed in, face flushed. “Edith, what the hell? People are asking about my car!” “Oh, that. I’m selling the house. The Porsche is a great bonus, don’t you think?”He sputtered, pulling out his phone. “This is insane! I’ll call Sarah right now!” “Go ahead,” I said sweetly. “Maybe you can tell her about your fabulous vacation. How was the beach?” Realization slowly dawned across his face. “This… is this some kind of payback? Did I do something wrong?” I stood, letting my anger finally surface. “You abandoned me when I needed you most. I’m just doing what you do: looking out for myself. After all, I’m just your wife, right?” John spent the next hour frantically trying to shoo away buyers, while begging me to reconsider. By the time Sarah texted that her friends had run out of patience, I let him off the hook—sort of. “Fine. I won’t sell the house or the car.” I paused. “This time.” He sagged with relief. “Thank you, Edith. I—” I held up my hand. “But things are going to change. I needed my husband, and you weren’t there. You’re going to start acting like a partner, or next time, the For Sale sign will be real.” He looked ashamed, finally understanding the gravity of his actions. “What can I do to make this right?” “You can start by showing up. Be a partner, not a roommate. I lost my mother, John. That kind of grief isn’t something you can fix with a vacation or a fancy dinner.” He nodded. “I don’t know how to be the man you need, but I love you, and I want to try.” It’s not perfect now. John still struggles with emotions, but he’s going to therapy, and last week, for the first time, he asked me how I was feeling about Mom. He listened while I talked about how much I missed her calls and how I sometimes still reach for the phone, only to remember she’s not there. He even opened up a little about his own feelings. It’s progress. Baby steps. I often wonder what Mom would say about all this. I can almost hear her chuckling, shaking her head. “That’s my girl,” she’d say. “Never let them see you sweat. Just show them the ‘For Sale’ sign instead.” Because if there’s one thing she taught me, it’s that strength comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s pushing through the pain, and sometimes it’s knowing when to push back.
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