I’ve bought myself flowers, and they were only €2.99. Literally. It’s not the microfeminism act, where I work enough to have spare €2.99 to buy myself flowers. It’s not a story about giving myself what others can’t first, so I buy myself flowers.
This story is about a situation in which a woman can have her damn flowers for just €2.99. She’s not supposed to listen to someone’s childhood traumas all night, every night, for these flowers. She’s not supposed to deal with someone’s mother’s opinions in exchange for these flowers. She won’t be expected to answer the longest list of stupid questions like “Are you really going to wear that?” or “Why were you showering without me?” to get these flowers. She won’t need to ask anyone for these flowers. She won’t need to remind anyone to give her these flowers. She won’t have to deal with someone grabbing her in public to claim that she’s his in front of other men. None of it is there. The flowers are just €2.99. There is nothing attached to it. No expectations. No conversations. No lies, tears, or waiting. Just €2.99.
These flowers were only €2.99. And this is what gives the feeling of freedom. This is the mental load that women carry every day to get those flowers that are just €2.99. Men want to be praised for everything they’ve done. Even if it’s just a bouquet of flowers for €2.99, especially if it’s a bouquet of flowers for €2.99.
I’m not overpaying for the flowers anymore. The maximum I’m willing to give in exchange is €2.99. If it’s too much for men out there. So be it. But I can buy myself flowers, and they’ll be only €2.99.
Love you,
Lorena