My name is Zoe Hanis and I am a coconut. Though I am beginning to wonder if that is not a very good way to go through life.
I was listening to the Swingset crew in Desire the other day, when Ginger mentioned that she was a pineapple. Unfortunately, Cooper derailed the conversation before she could explain why she picked that fruit. Though her point regarding different people liking or seeking out different flavors in others was quite valid.
A few years ago during a less than sober poker party, Hubby’s girlfriend asked the question, “What kind of fruit are you?” Apparently, her mother had a theory similar to Ginger’s: that people gravitate towards those that they like and tend to avoid those they don’t. Well that was hardly a revelation – it is obvious that we seek out people who like us. But what was unique was that she likened it to fruit, that if one is a mango (like Hubby’s gf), it is important that you find mango liking others and not try to make yourself into a kiwi. Furthermore, if someone didn’t like mango then there was nothing wrong with you for being a mango, you just weren’t what they wanted.
Not thinking clearly after more alcoholic beverages than I could count, I thought this was the most idiotic idea. I was not about to be a fruit, of all things. So I pronounced that I was a pussy cat. Of course, the word “pussy” made a friend spew her mouthful of liquor all over the table. But pussy cat fits me well. I am fiercely independent unless I want attention and then I am in your face. I like to be lazy and sleep in the sunshine (or anywhere it is warm during the day). I like to have my head petted. When I am happy I will cuddle and nuzzle. And sometimes during sex, I have been known to growl as well as use claws and teeth. Oh and I can be very fickle. Like I said, a purrrfect cat.
A couple years later, I was driving down the road, once again trying to figure out why my life had taken a strange turn and an epiphany struck: I am a coconut. Like a coconut, I have an extremely hard shell. I am loathe to let people in and that makes it very difficult for them to know me. It takes a lot of time, patience and work to get to the heart of who I am. But once the shell is cracked and one gets to the center, it is sweet and succulent (as am I). If on the other hand, one comes on too strong trying to crack my shell, all they get is a mess. Also although I (like a coconut) am good for you overall, I am best in small doses as I can be overwhelming.
Lately, I have been thinking that maybe a coconut is not the best fruit to be. I would like to be more open to letting more people in. I wonder how…