I’m not even sure which one a female might favor.
From the corner of my eye, I watch a few other females approach and make their selections, each of them casting a wary—and in at least one case, interested—look in my direction. I’m curious of their selections, but to my frustration, there doesn’t seem to be any sort of agreement among them which flowers were the more preferable.
My eyes linger on the roses and move to the carnations and mums. I turn to ask a female who has materialized at my side to grab her own clump, but she skitters away, her chosen flowers clutched to her chest as she tosses a wary look over her shoulder. I bite down on a curse. It seems that I will just have to do this the ancient, time-tested way of making an impossible selection.
I close my eyes and randomly pick one up.
Opening my eyes, I look at the clusters of white flowers with their bright yellow centers.
Daisies.
I nod in satisfaction and turn to the task of finding the sweets.
As it happens, they are contained on one aisle. There are really so many that it is hard to choose. Rich, dark confections of something called chocolate all equally captivate me as I look at the images pressed on the gift boxes. They are like tiny silken jewels waiting to be tasted.
To my surprise a young male standing at the end of the aisle presses a tiny cup into my hands containing one of the little delicacies. It is of a hue that reminds me of the soft skin of my mate’s neck and I reverently slip it between my lips. An incredible flavor sweeps over my tongue, rich and deep, sweet and yet with a bite to it that is pleasing in ways I cannot describe. It doesn’t last long, but as I lick the remnants off of my lips, I wonder for a moment if she would taste as sweet.
I glance at the offerings in the box and feel a sudden apprehension as I look at the variations that are nestled within it, each different from the one sitting next to it. What if she doesn’t like all of them? I don’t wish to displease my mate. Worse, there are so many varieties sitting stacked neatly on the shelves that it feels even more impossible to choose.
I glance around me helplessly, a strange and utterly unfamiliar anxiety rising within me. How can I offer this as a token of love when she may not favor any one of the other chocolates?
Chocolates may be too complex of an issue for me to decipher when it comes to deciding on a love-token.
My sire did often advise during my youth that, when in doubt, going a simple route is ideal. I will simply choose something that makes me happy to look upon, just the way my entire being swells with joy when I look upon her. She brings a vibrancy into my life, making the world around me more colorful, and bright like sunlight refracting from a drop of rain. Finding my ahandral has cut through the gloom of the many long years of my existence just that easily.
A bright rainbow of colors catches my eye as I near the end of the aisle, and I smile at the sight of clear packages filled with long, colorful strips, each changing in color from one ed to the other in brilliant hues of green, yellow, red, and blue. A tiny rainbow of happiness to convey my joy of having her presence in my life. Perfect!
The chocolates I will test further and get her the best of them when I claim her. Until then, these will do.
I tuck the little rainbows in with my flowers and head over to a cashier to make my purchase. I have no doubt that Steph will love these.
Happily, the driver is still waiting for me as promised, saving me the effort of locating another. He takes one look at my courting gift and lets out a surprised laugh—no doubt impressed by my marvelous selection. I preen a bit at that, and he shakes his head.
“Daisies and gummy worms as a mating gift,” he mumbles. “Now I’ve seen everything.”
Gummy worms, are they? Not rainbows? I can’t object, they sound positively fertile, promising a life of great bounties for us as a mated pair! What a delightful symbol.
My smile widens as I carefully arrange the package of gummy worms with the clump of daisies