I’ve never liked red roses. Red roses from the store are all the same. They are generic. The few times I’ve received a red rose, it’s usually because the guy fucked up - after a big fght or cheating. If I get a red rose, I’m like, “Awwwwwww shit, what did you do?” The only roses that I received that I truly loved were from my father on my birthday in April. He had the advantage of being the director of the Morris Arboretum, which had a large rose garden he could pick from, but it was more than that... On the morning of my birthday, he would go into the garden and pick roses of all different colors, shapes, and sizes - yellow, white, pink, orange, peachy-blends that were tinged on the edges with carnelian, tight rosebuds, tulip-shaped roses, and full-blown cabbage roses... and yes, one or two classic red beauties in the bunch. He would strip the thorns off the stems with a special tool “because the thorns absorb water and nutrients from the roses” and hammer the ends of the stems to open them up to absorb more water and keep longer. That’s love. Taking the time and effort to strip away the thorns of daily life. Bringing beauty into someone’s day and taking steps to make it last. They were “my roses,” but our whole family shared them. We all enjoyed looking at them on the dining room table. And that wasn’t something special that he did “just for me” - he gave all of us roses on our birthdays, even my brother. He gave roses to my mom “just because” and not because he messed up. I often found him arranging a vase to bring to the hospital for a board member of the garden or a friend who was ill. This man worked 70-80 hours a week and still found time to pick and arrange rose bouquets for those he loved. Those roses didn’t ft into any mold or were color-coded according to certain types of love which were more or less valued. They defied stereotyping. He gave roses to many people, but it was never generic. I want to be with someone who wants to do romantic things. For that to happen, I need to be more romantic and show my love for other people; for all kinds of love. To treasure those white carnations rather than see them as “less than,” and to give roses of all colors, take more chances, and defy being generic. To value the paper and real hearts that are not perfect. To talk to those crushes instead of masturbating to them. To love more freely and more wisely.--from Match-Liss Tales of Online Dating by Melissa Klein