If you have a lot of love to give, don’t date a cactus

And no, I am not talking about the thorns.
Back in the day when I lived in Beirut, I had 2 gorgeous cacti that I placed in a giant Chupa Chups tin barrel. There they stood, strong and proud in the corner of the living room, facing the sun and the nosy neighbor Saleem.
And although my mom had patiently explained to me that cacti don’t need water, every morning before I left to work, I used to water them. I mean come on, you don’t need a PhD in botany to know that a cactus survives and thrives in the desert, blah. But I couldn’t help it; my impulse was stronger than my brains.
And one day I woke up and the cacti were leaning down, black and overhydrated, as if they were trying to pick a mop up off the floor to suck the water I have unmercifully inflated them with.
And there I stood. Ashamed, sad and disappointed. Ashamed because I knew the end result beforehand, and sad because I managed to kill 2 cacti.
Who am I to challenge nature?
Why did I pour this lethal love on those self-sufficient, leave-me-alone creatures?
Dating an emotionally unavailable person (he/she/it/they) is like pushing a boulder up a hill. Unlike me and my cacti, Sisyphus might have tricked death, but he couldn’t escape the consequences.