Don’t get me wrong - I’m no actor but over my lifetime from me playing as a little lad in tailored to me (so it’s not too big) rugby kits, and heatwaves and christmases later playing rugby, aye, of course I’ve been given flowers a few times.

Often from family in Dublin, a lot of the time it’s my Ma. When I’ve had a big game, or a big win she’ll get a present for herself but label it as ‘Johnny’s flowers’. Personally, I’m not that arsed, but if it makes her happy, then sure. Whatever.

And I like to think I know what girls like, what they deserve, but Gibs said we both know shite in comparison to the complex machine that is a teenage girls’ brain and I looked around our history class at all the girls then nodded and agreed with him. We’re teenage boys - we're tryin’ here.

But one stereotype is always that a girl gets flowers. Whether it’s for a birthday, an anniversary - dunno how any of the lads in our year has them - or a show or somethin’. But it has to happen for every girl at some point.

It’s etiquette of a sort.

So when I’ve got her over, literally my best friend apart from Gibsie, she’s laying on my bed cuddling Sooks whilst I’m showering and after she’s meticulously tidied my entire room - what can I say, the girls got OCD.

When I come out I dry my hair a little with the towel and shove on some sweatpants and a white tee, coming out, and searching what now was a clean floor for socks. “Hey! I left out socks.” I grumble, walking to my drawer and opening in, and rifling through the sock drawer for socks. It’s full of stuff that isn’t socks.

“Your room was a mess. You’re welcome.” I can hear her smile even from bein’ faced away from her.

“Perfectionist.” I grab a pair of socks and pull them on before turning around and sitting on the edge of my bed, my back brushing her calve as Sookie rests her head on my leg, giving me those puppy eyes I can never resist. “Shall we get you fed baby? Hm?” I stroke behind her ears.

“You comin’?” I ask her, as I stand and Sooks follows. She nods.

When we’re downstairs my Ma and Dad come home, doing some shopping but Ma’s grinning holding a huge bouquet of yellow and red tulips, wisteria, mimosa and a few big white dahlias. “Oh aren’t they lovely?” She looks at her when she says it, as she flocks over to me Ma to admire the bouquet.

I shake my head whilst opening Sooks’ food sachet and putting it in her bowl.

“.. they’re truly lovely.” You smile at Edel.

“I know, love.” Ma strokes down the brown paper; and undoes the ribbon, to snip down the ends of the flowers.

“I’ve never got flowers before.”

Dad’s looking over like you’ve just announced you’re about to go to war, Ma looks like you’ve just committed a crime to humanity and I’m… I’m lost, mouth wide - gapin’.

You? Really? You? You’ve never got flowers. A pretty, sweet and kind girl has never gotten flowers. “You’ve never? Ever?” Mam says, high pitched. “Like ever, ever?”

“No.” You shake your head looking down as you stroke Sookie’s head, who in her own way wanted to offer support instead of devouring the dinner I’d set up for her.

You had a small smile on your face but it was a sad one. Like your eyes were forcing their usual sparkle. “Well that’s a crime to humanity.” Ma declares. Everyone goes back to what they were doing. Sooks goes to eat, Ma organises the bouquet and Da sits down, reading the newspaper.

But I’m still stuck - reeling. Never had flowers? That can’t be right.

“Did yer mean what you said?” We’re washing dishes after we’ve cooked dinner. “About the flowers.” Two hours later and I’m still stuck on it.

“Yeah.” You nod.

“I’ll get you flowers then.” I declare.

Cause why wouldn’t I? You were more than a bloody best friend to me; even if we refused to cross the line.