The Tulip Theory
On the humiliation of being visibly infatuated
There are times when I’m seized by the absurd conviction that I am becoming a tulip. A tulip in love. Tulips make it so painfully obvious who they like. Swaying in pink glee as they stumble in a garden, nose to nose on their dangly green legs.
I overheard a couple of bees strumming notes of a fall song during the early weeks of September. A melody so captivating the sunlight grew envious of how easily it pried the lush petals apart, exposing the sticky pollens he usually had to coax and fondle out of the tulips with his boyish warmth.
You’ll find them giggling the breeze awake, helplessly bright in notice of their liking for a particular bee.
Tulips can’t hide well. Almost stupid , they don’t even try, their tendency of being terribly vibrant in presence of the one they adore always gives them away. A kind of botanical honesty that borders on humiliation.
Its so ridiculous that I’ve begun to suspect If I swallowed permanent alcohol, the kind solely fermented out of years of yearning, shelved in darkest chambers of a lover’s heart, that is , only if it existed.
I sleep, blabbering foolish things to the little tulips of my nightstand vase, “ How miserable are we?” “How miserable are you?” “How miserable am I?” “How do I deny this awkward red blossoming across my cheek when his gaze accidently brushes mine?” How do I remain still when everything in me rushes forward the moment he turns his head, even slightly, in my direction? I wait for it. I live for it.
Poor flowers? will your pollens drift and reach his ears? to whisper these giddy confessions?
Theo, I think I want to call this the ‘Tulip Theory’.
That's a lovely piece. I liked how you called it "the tulip theory".
I love this piece of writing, and yet... and yet... and yet I think I violently disagree with it. Because think how wildly and extravagantly we fall in love with our children, and it's not embarrassing at all.
And it's not embarrassing falling in love with a woman...
Oh. Wait, I think the logic's finally worked its way through: the only embarrassing one is when you're in love with a man. Doh!