In some quarters, I have a reputation for a stony heart. I can appear so efficient, the assumption is that 'I have no soul' I was once told by a colleague. Just before leaving that particular establishment, someone asked me if anything made me cry. "Oh, yes," I said. "Christmas carols." That was a long time ago and, at my leaving do, the more creative members of staff composed a ditty to sing to me, to the tune of an unmistakable carol. It had the desired effect.
Many years later, quite soon after I had walked out on my first husband, I was asked to give advice to four men: "What should a man do to stop his wife leaving?" To cut a long story short, I suggested the man should (a) buy her flowers (not so often as to make it a habit and not so rare for it to become suspicious) (b) take her out for a meal, a show, whatever, not just because it was her birthday and (c) tell her he loves her every day. I still think it's sound advice, but if truth be told, it's the flowers that win the day, for me.
One astute man of that foursome asked me if, had my husband bought me flowers would I have left him. He is now my second (and, I hope, my final) husband and today he bought me flowers.
Send her flowers?
If you've screwed up so bad
That she won't even talk
If you think maybe today
Is the day she will walk
Never to return ...
Send her flowers?
Your silence is not strong
It just amplifies pain
So beg her to stay or
Risk never seeing again
Your true love ...
Send her flowers?
Now if someone can set that to a Christmas carol, we can all have a good weep?