Part of this setting, but except for a couple unimportant references you don’t need to know about it.
I tossed yet another dozen red roses into the discard pile, flinging myself back into the pile of cushions with a pained sigh. As much as the idea of a day entirely devoted to professions of romantic inclinations appealed to me, the sheer quantities of trite poetry and overpriced roses had led my enthusiasm to wear thin.
Now I must admit, I am quite fond of chocolates, flowers, jewelry, and being showered with gifts from my devoted admirers. That was all well enough. The irritating part was how cheap they all were! Oh, not in terms of cost; they were all quite evidently the most expensive roses and chocolates they could lay their adoring hands upon. Which only served to emphasize their complete lack of discerning taste.
Although sometimes one of them did get things right. There was that one gentleman, David I think his name was, who had a true eye for flowers. He hand-picked a half dozen musk roses in an absolutely beautiful shade of pink and, I could tell, had lovingly arranged the bouquet himself with a few sprigs of purple lilacs and delicate ferns. Now that had been a bouquet to be proud of, both in giving and receiving.