Just Relaxed Blog

Tag: dating humor

  • Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    Is My Houseplant Judging My Life Choices? (The Evidence is Compelling)

    We’ve all been there. You’re sprawled on the couch, three episodes deep into a reality TV marathon you swore you’d never watch, and your eyes meet those of your houseplant. You know, the one you PROMISED you’d water regularly and re-pot when it got rootbound? Yeah, that one. And in that moment, you just KNOW. It’s judging you.

    When My Fiddle Leaf Fig Threw Shade (Literally)

    My personal journey into the secret world of judgmental houseplants began with Ferdinand, my majestic fiddle leaf fig. Now, Ferdinand is a drama queen of the highest order. Give him a little too much sun? Scorched leaves. Not enough humidity? Cue the dramatic leaf drop that would make a soap opera star proud.

    But this time was different. I was in the midst of a particularly disastrous online dating spree, fueled by questionable wine choices and even more questionable swiping decisions. As I recounted the latest cringe-worthy date story to my friend, I noticed Ferdinand’s leaves seemed…droopy. Not just regular thirsty-droopy, but a special kind of I-can’t-even-look-at-you-right-now droopy.

  • Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Judging My Life Choices

    Why I’m Convinced My Houseplant is Judging My Life Choices



    We’ve all been there, right? Staring out the window at 3 a.m., questioning every decision that led us to this very moment. But lately, I’ve started to suspect I’m not alone in these introspective spirals. No, it’s not a roommate (thankfully, I outgrew those in my early twenties), but something much quieter, much greener, and infinitely more passive-aggressive: my houseplant, Herbert.

    When Your Houseplant Gives You the Side-Eye: Herbert‘s Silent Judgement

    It all started subtly. I’d be on a dating app, swiping left on a series of increasingly questionable profiles (let’s just say, “aspiring poet” doesn’t hold the same allure it did in college), and I’d catch Herbert’s leaves drooping lower than usual. At first, I chalked it up to needing water or perhaps a bit more sunlight. But then came the night of the disastrous Zoom date.

    Picture this: I’m mid-sentence, attempting to charm this poor woman with my sparkling wit (or so I thought), when my internet connection decided to take a nosedive. And not just a regular dip in service—a full-blown digital blackout. I’m talking frozen screens, robotic voices, the whole shebang. By the time I managed to reconnect, my date looked like she wanted to crawl through the screen and personally strangle my router.

    A healthy, thriving houseplant in a pot.