I was a radish tossed into a sack of potatoes, trying hard to imitate a potato.
“Why do these potatoes act like my bitterness and zing are a pain in the ass? “Who doesn’t love the almost-too-sharp taste of a Raphanus sativus? Why do they turn their eyes away from my bright-red color, and flinch like I’m not nearly potato-y enough?
Once I’ve deemed a man worthy to receive my attentions, I feel like a lioness on the prowl, a witch brewing up a potion to wickedly entice him to spend time with me.
All parallel universes seem to live in my head; it’s up to me to enact the universe in which the boy and I take things to the next level.
Why do they roll their eyes and look at each other whenever I get a little radishy?
” Now to be fair, in some ways, I saw potatoes as the rulers of the universe back then.
Why don’t you have a radish friend to tell you, “Dude, he’s a potato. ” It’s true that radishes can be inconvenient, with their complicated feelings and demands. Young radishes are, nine times out of ten, super-taxing and dysfunctional. They will get weird or talk too long about their artistic pursuits or disappear suddenly or advocate for open relationships (which is great if you also love open relationships, but personally, I prefer comfort and predictability over almost everything). The very best of everything springs forth from that kind of primordial, aching radishy love. Observe closely before you make plans to get into his twice-baked boxer briefs.
Am I really getting super-unlucky and meeting all the idiots, or do you think I’m ignoring the ones that are worth keeping around?They could just power-down their wild brains and focus on the concrete. I thought maybe they were stupid or shallow at times, but really they were making a choice, the choice of reasonably happy people with reasonably happy, privileged childhoods who were destined to lead reasonably happy lives — lives that had very little in common with the life I wanted to live.They would simply amble optimistically forward with their careers and continue to do their low-key, easygoing, Grateful Dead–loving, Teva-wearing upper-middle-class professional dude and dudette thing.What they are good at is working and earning money.And keeping themselves so busy they don’t have time to think about anything.