They say every rose has it’s thorns, but sometimes those thorns can have a more powerful meaning as we will learn in this story. It was a typical Friday night, me and my best friend just sitting there watching sports, she was the sporty type, typical tom boy, she told me I need to get out in the dating world again, and I agreed with her. So I bought a dozen red roses, and told my friend “I’m going to give a rose to each date for the next 12 weeks and see if there was a connection”, but one rose stood out above the rest, it just seemed more beautiful than the rest. So I naturally went to pick it out for the first date, but the thorns poked me, so my friend picked it up, but it didn’t poke her, so I decided to go with another rose. The next 3 weeks the same occurance happened, I went to pick out that special rose, and each time the thorns poked me, and again each time my friend picked it up with no problems. Was the rose favoring her more than me or was I just picking it up the wrong way? After the 4th date was over, I walked home alone, just thinking to myself, “none of this feels right”. I lost all hope, the rest of the roses starting to die except for that one that kept poking me, which some how kept blossoming as weeks went by, if that one rose keeps poking me, then I know there is nobody left for me. Why was this rose being so stubborn? Why did it keep poking me? Was it saving me from heartbreak? That night I was alone, just looking at it, asking it “What do you want? or better yet, who do you want?” That’s when my friend walked in, she looked different, she dyed her hair a cherry blossom red, her lips with red lipstick, wearing a red dress with red high heels. That is when I noticed that the more the rose blossomed, so did she. Were her and the rose spirtually connected? Regardless, she looked stunning, I looked her in her eyes and told her “If I could, I would give you this rose, but it won’t let me.” She smiled and replied “Why don’t you try, I mean, it can’t poke you forever ” I attempted to pick it up, and wouldn’t you know it, it didn’t poke me. Was the rose just wating for the right woman? Was I blind this whole time? There was nothing left for me to do other than to give her this special rose, smile and said “This is for you, a beautiful rose for a beautiful lady.” She smiled at me and replied with just one simple word, “Finally….”
The moral of the story: Sometimes it takes something as beautiful as a rose to tell you something even more beautiful can be in front of you the whole time.