Tri-colored Collection of Roses

There is a vase full of half blossoming, half drooping roses on my kitchen table. They appeared in the staff lounge at work on Thursday, just in time for the building staff meeting, so everyone could see my name on the card. Who are they from? Boyfriend? No. Girlfriend? No. Dad? No. Mom? No. Who? I wasn't about to tell them the flowers were from an RA in the dorms who would probably like to be my boyfriend, but never will be. Why is it the boys I have no interest in dating are the ones who do the sweet things for me, while the boys I would like to date, or even do date, never do sweet things? (well, that's not entirely fair - the last boyfriend did one or two sweet things, but in a much less spontaneous, much more I-feel-I-should-do-something kind of way) Am I destined to be that girl who always attracts guys she has no interest in having more than a platonic relationship with?

On the positive side, a boy cared enough to do something extra nice and special for me. And they are really pretty roses. In fact, my feelings on the whole rose situation are much like the roses themselves: half blossoming and cheery that someone cared enough to do something that sweet, the other half drooping and disappointed that they aren't from someone whose feelings I can reciprocate.