Wednesday, March 28, 2012

i have a confession to make: i let our love fern die.

So there's this Marriage and Family class at my university. Some of you might have taken it. In this class, the students are each required to plant and grow a seed. At the end of the semester, each student has to write up a paper on how growing this plant is like cultivating a marriage or family relationship.

Sounds easy enough, right?

That's what I thought, too.

I signed up for and took this class a year ago. And that plant-growing escapade is what this post is about. So, without further ado, I give you...

The Time I Sucked at Love

See, before growing the plant, which lovingly became known as "the Love Fern," I thought I basically had the whole dating-relationship-love thing down. I'd had boyfriends before. I considered myself pretty well-versed in the dating "rules." I knew what was up. I was at the top of my A-game. I was legit.

I knew my Love Fern would be epic.

All it required was love and water, right?
It was simple math, really. And I was bound to succeed.

So the professor gave me my seed.

I was so excited to show the world how much I rocked at love. I ran home, found some dirt, and put it in a mug. Then I jammed the seed in there.

And I watered it.

But for some reason, drowning my Love Fern seed in love didn't work. It never grew. Go figure.

So I had to go back to my professor for a new seed. I balled up my fists, clenched my teeth, and vowed that this time I would NOT over-love that Love Fern.

...And that, my friends, is how I killed my second Love Fern seed. And my third.

By this point, I was starting to get depressed. Maybe I wasn't as great at love as I'd thought...

But I had to try again. I couldn't hide the shame in my face as I asked my professor for a fourth seed. Shame was evident in my beet-red cheeks, my downcast eyes, and my squeaky "I killed another one, professor..." whisper.

I was absolutely determined not to let this fourth seed die. This was the relationship that would LAST!

Until I got home and realized that I had accidentally crushed the seed in my pocket on the way home from campus.

My life was over. I failed miserably, terribly, horribly, disastrously. I would never get married. I would never have kids. I would probably be one of those people whose goldfish can't ever live past 24 hours. Children in Africa were probably starving because of me.

The new math equation went something like this:

Death. Destruction. I sucked at love. Might as well give up now.

Asking for a fifth seed made me feel like a complete idiot. But the professor didn't call me any mean names or tell me that I would die alone (although I'm sure he was thinking it). He just gave me a new seed.

I was ultra-super-extra careful carrying that seed home. I followed all of the directions I could find on wikipedia. I sang to it. I loved the crap outta that thing.

And you know what?

Finally. It loved me back.

So basically...

I rock at love.


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