That maybe the women don't look at you because he's a bard, looks like a pensioner and wears an RCD Espanyol badge on his lapel? Before you shoot yourself in the head, do this test: get a bouquet of wild flowers, take it for a walk and see how women look at it, even well.
Unless he's driving a Ferrari 296 GTS, the last resort for the old-fashioned man who wants to see and be seen is to stroll around in casual flowers, as it were. It is important to avoid plastic poppies and to carry the bouquet face down (a sign of a married man celebrating – that is to say – his wedding anniversary).
Of all the gender customs of the 20th century, I would say that giving a woman a bouquet of flowers continues to inspire and has the blessing of feminism and its currents, although I have not had the opportunity to give flowers either to a militant of the CUP – everything will come – or to some collective of these who are looking for three feet in the cat to these things.
The flowers, so quiet, convey good intentions, purity and that aesthetic that helps to cheat the routine. Thanks to flowers, the most shy, shy and reserved of men express themselves and find what is so complicated about precise words.
Why do we give men flowers so often? If I knew, I would sell books and not columns. Maybe shyness, fear of solemnity or because we don't cheat on the lonely. To give flowers is to step on the area, where the defenders distribute elbows and the VAR decrees penalties.
Walking around with a bouquet of flowers has only one downside, from a man's point of view: there's a wretch at work, a candid soul sweating in the gym or a company captain who can't imagine the storm that's about to hit him above
– I saw a man like you with a bouquet of flowers on the street.
And then, aware of the magnitude of the torpedo, this collateral victim of friendly fire will sink into misery. Or in tragedy if it occurs to him to call Glovo and order half a kilo of roses to be delivered in half an hour.
Flowers are beautiful but the devil carries them.
