married to a tree
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| blue beach park. photo by alexander young |
all of us must have loved a tree or hugged a tree, whether it
was from a distant past or a few days ago (a chance that people like me who
live on the 23rd floor don’t get a lot). it brings back all the
positive energy that our daily grind strips away from us. love a tree, hug a
tree…all that for the good of the soul.
but have you ever been married to a tree? i know, that doesn’t
even sound like a valid question. but if you sit long enough to continue
reading this, i’m sure you will begin to realize that, yes, trees in the guise
of breathing, living, working, and even cooking men do exist.
i enjoyed an hour-long conversation over the phone with a good
friend today—yes, the one who’s married to a tree. you see, this moonstruck
analogy began when she started describing the purportedly love of her life in
an elaborate kind of way and in a tone that is not to be used when you are in
some state of bliss. for instance, she told me she got sick a couple of months
ago and when she told him that she was running a fever and had a nasty cough,
he responded with a wintry “okay”. okay?
a few more cases presented and there i was, able to bring forth my
slice of what i thought was an astute analogy: “that man, my dear, is a tree.”
you know you are married to a tree if...
- you know he is alive but he does not respond to most of your questions nor to your romantic advances.
- you know he’s breathing life in him but when you start begging him to talk, he stands still and leaves you more frustrated than you’ve ever been.
- his libido is pushing up daisies.
- he lets you know he’s there for you but in some sort of enigmatic kind of way that you can’t decipher most of the time. right, like a tree.
- you know that somehow he appreciates things that you do for him but he keeps you guessing all the time.
i asked my friend how long his man's been acting like a tree.
they’ve been together for 12 years and i can’t imagine how far a
woman could go living with somebody whose emotions you need to yank out from
him all the time—and still fail. there must have been that magical moment at
the beginning of the relationship when she didn’t necessarily play the role of
fanny (of enid blyton’s “the enchanted wood”)and when everything was happy and
fun. we all have our beginnings —- that happy place, the prelude to every love
story.
and i was right. her tree once brought laughter in her life. he
was her best friend, he was her everything.
there was romance and his tenderness gave them so much reason to be
together.
“when did all of that change?” i asked.
“my goodness, a long time ago when we moved in together.”
there it is, the formula that does not work wonders for all.
living under one roof is a make or break situation; a death defying act; a
flamenco step that you can never get right no matter how hard you try. the
demands of living with a partner is no picnic. in some sad cases, either one or
both turn into a seemingly unfeeling living thing as years go by – yes, much
like a tree.
how much longer this friend of mine is going to stay in the
relationship remains a question. they are now living away from each other
hoping sense could be made and a relationship could be saved.
we all must love a tree, but must not marry one, maybe. daily
confirmation of love saves a lot in life. a simple touch of the hand,
unexpected “how are yous?”, one long kiss before bedtime, a peck on the cheek,
a tight hug…they cost nothing but they are knipschildt’s chocopologie for
relationships.
