A man and his cactus: the weirdest love story ever told (no it's not like that)

 

About 18 months ago, I’d had a few pints (not an uncommon occurrence back then) and decided on the recommendation of a friend, to sign up for a cactus subscription. Yeah, a cactus subscription. Every month, I get sent a cactus from a dude called Barry (about as real as Betty Crocker) who drops the hottest cactus of the month. I thought it was kinda stupid, but I had a pretty dead looking windowsill after the pandemic and wanted to green it up a bit and give it some life. I’d seen some of those rooms you see in a Dulux catalogue where it looks really nice, calm and pristine – so I spent a weekend painting my space and then loaded up on plants. 18 months later, I’m now struggling to find places for the little bastards. Filling up my windowsill is the least of my concerns, now I’m fretting over my humidity monitor, the bloody temperature, and keeping them happy and fed with literal cactus food. Not only that, but I think I’m becoming PART cactus. I’m starting to not enjoy direct sunlight as much as I used to and seem to prefer some nice, cool shade and lots of water. I’ve started drinking about 2 litres of water a day and I’ve even stopped eating in the day time, now I’m photosynthesising.

the gang, who life would succ without

How’d I get here? Well, I just love the little shits. They’re spikey, of course. You try and repot them, pick them up, move them and they stab you, scratch you and mortally *wound* you with their spiney spitefulness. They’ll never say thank you for feeding them, for watering them and giving them extra care. You aren’t going to get affection back; frankly if my spider plant started whispering sweet nothings, I’d have a lot more problems in my head than I currently already do. But you know what? I bloody love them. They’re like my children. That’s a bit tongue in cheek, but you become so attached to them. To many, they’re just these inanimate house decorations and that’s what they were to me at first. Now they’re my little guys. I just love to think that they’re thriving, growing and enjoying themselves (in whatever way a cactus or a plant can feel that joy) and that I’m doing right by them.

So where am I going with this? I’m someone who struggles a lot with his self-confidence, I’m very critical of myself, hard on my mistakes or failures and just generally a real dickhead to myself. Because of this, I usually look for support, validation and acceptance from my friends, or my partners, or my family. I recycle all my energy into others, trying to be a good pal but also hoping that my friends will return the favour. That’s not been the best idea I’ve ever had honestly and it hasn’t worked tremendously well so far. So, I thought to myself, fuck it – if humans are giving me so much bleeding trouble, I’ll get some sort of furry pal. Wanted a dog. Can’t have one in my current living arrangements. Would have settled for a cat, but there’s a big main road and my cats have always been so stupid that it would be certainly dead within a week. Can’t have a lizard because I’d have to keep LIVE BUGS around my house which is just not happening. So, I ended up with plants. C

I sat there after the first 5 or 6, who had been joined by some IKEA cacticae specials and a big-arse palm plant. I pondered to myself: “how does a 28-year-old man, with all the time and opportunity in the world, feel lonely enough that he needs some glorified weeds to keep him from being sad.” But nonetheless, I went about life, as you do. It was shitty, it was the pandemic and I was working in hospitality and every day felt like it should be your last in the job. I’d lost friends, I’d fallen out with others – not dissimilar to 2022 Joe, but… the bloody cactuses were always here. I really hope my spider plant hasn’t actually taken on some sentience because I’ve had several conversations with it about my troubles and it must think I’m slightly insane. Once I got past the idea that I was just a male Poison Ivy, I really started to love the windowsill. Summer was here and they were thriving, getting plenty of sun and some even flowered, or grew new growths. I replanted some “eyes” (a kind of seedling version of the spider plants) and gave to them my friends, who promptly killed them, but I’ll get over that in the next 6 to 8 years.

The thing was, and what made me want to talk about my little guys… they, in their extremely basic, mundane and unintelligent nature, gave me the validation I was looking for. I couldn’t find it in myself, I couldn’t find in other people, but I *did* find it when I took the time to love and care for things that were totally and utterly relying on me. It’s not about the thank you’s, or feeling like you’re really important. That will always come from within. Don’t live and die by that, because people will come and go, love you and leave you, heal you and hurt you.

But a cactus? He’ll never leave you. He might hurt you though, seriously this FUCKER……

he's honestly a shithead I swear