On Traveling with Flowers (and Giving Love Another Chance)

Did we miss the hopeless romantic side of me? I know I definitely did!

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had one simple non-negotiable when it comes to love: if a man doesn’t buy me flowers, I do not want him.

It has very little to do with extravagance — and everything to do intention. Flowers are my quiet joy. I love how they smell, how they soften a space, how they remind me to slow down. Yet over the years, I’ve realized that most men don’t naturally think of flowers. Almost every man I’ve dated has admitted that they’d never really bought flowers before meeting me — and in most cases, they did it once and never again.

Then came Æ.

We met at the end-of-year AGSA dinner at Michigan State University, when I was wrapping up my first year of the MBA program. A few days after, we were both off on our summer internships — mine at Microsoft in Washington, his in Detroit — and somehow, the distance only drew us closer. When my internship ended, he flew out to help me launch the Ntha Foundation, because I was terribly overwhelmed. That was the moment I realized this relationship was built on quiet, deliberate care.

By the time we returned to Michigan together, we had been dating for three months. On my 30th birthday — we went grocery shopping. I remember joking as we passed the floral section, saying, “When you’re doing your grocery runs, you should always grab flowers. They’re not that expensive!”

He laughed, but as we got to the car, he suddenly said, “I forgot something,” and ran back inside. When he came out, he was holding a bouquet. I still remember that moment — the simplicity of it, the intention behind it. Since then, he’s made it a ritual: always buying me flowers that match whatever book I’m writing or project I’m working on.

So when we traveled to San Francisco together for TechCrunch Disrupt, the story continued. We were walking to the water when I spotted a florist and, as always, got excited.

“Baby, flowers!” I said. He teased that he’d forgotten his wallet, and I laughed it off, but a few minutes later he surprised me again — this time with the most beautiful (and possibly the most expensive) bouquet anyone’s ever bought me. We didn’t check the price first, but it didn’t matter. The gesture was everything.

Those flowers became my little mission. I decided I was going to bring them home to Michigan — across airports, flights, and layovers. Everyone who saw them in the terminals smiled, rooting for them to make it. On our Delta Comfort flight, the seat next to ours was empty, so I buckled the bouquet in as if it were a travel companion. Two days later, they made it all the way to Lansing — slightly tired, but still very much alive.

If you ever need to travel with flowers, here’s what I’d advise (what I wish I had done):
– Keep them upright, not flat.
– Wrap the stems in damp paper towels to keep them hydrated.
– Ask the crew to store them in a cool, upright spot if possible.

But more than that, I learned that love — like flowers — thrives on intention. It’s not the size of the bouquet that matters; it’s the care it represents.

💐 And yes — Æ and I celebrate six months together today on the November 3rd.