Why I Love Fake Plastic Trees

Photo by Chandan Chaurasia on Unsplash

As my thirties barrel onwards, I find myself in a world where the people my age whom I interact with are married and have children. Needless to say, I do not. This is not something I desire, but being self-conscious I understand that being childless and unmarried makes me appear abnormal, despite however normal it may be in today’s society, it is not the pinnacle of normalcy.

Being abnormal is generally unfavorable because people are much less likely to trust you, like you, or put faith in you, because the more different you are from somebody, the less they will naturally project their own self-worth and self-trust onto your character due to being very similar. Appearing abnormal means that it is much more difficult to harness the power of another person’s narcissism to alleviate stress or conflict by allowing the person the person to project their own ego and self-trust onto your body due to finding consolation from the fear of the unknown by acknowledging the similarities between themselves and yourself.

It is a passing thought when I entertain the thought of getting married and having children, even if only to cope with the subtle discomfort of my awareness of appearing abnormal. This is not due to any interest in human social contact, romance, sex, or, marriage, but simply due to the relief of social protection and acceptance afforded by normalcy.

That being said, as a fiction writer, clearly my fantasies will easily disconnect themselves from reality, and as an unapologetic narcissus, these fantasies largely consist of the partner doing nothing but standing there while I use my marital status and children affirm my normalcy in the eyes of those I interact with. Of course, the target of my fantasy loves me, and I am sweet and kind to them, but again, these are merely fantasies.

Upon seeing a human in a professional situation, I can thankfully avert any human obligations to entertaining romance or sexuality, and this remains a comfortable position for me. In my life, occasionally I interact with an actual human couple in a social setting, the sight of this and the reality of the situation quickly dissuades me from entertaining the thought of spending time with another person.

The sheer volatility of these meatbags, it is disconcerting; the danger posed by a human mind and human body now being experienced two-fold in close quarters, these two meatbags thwapping their baggage at each other like Beyblades, each armed with all of the flaws of their respective beast.

This volatility is so palpable to me that I am not capable of genuinely considering voluntarily spending time with humans. I see two people suffering in inescapable pain, stemming both from their own flaws as well as the flaws of their partner. I see two crumbling, rotting, wooden columns propped up against each other to form some sort of ramshackle lean-to which any sort of disturbance would readily cause to collapse.

There’s nothing I can really relate to in a person, especially due to suffering from mental illness and dissociation. The sheer predisposition to folly and irrational psychological states makes humans feel to me far more like animals which have little place in a civilized world, but also ones that must be handled and cared for like beasts. I’m not one to take care of animals, let alone in the style of the incessant crippling charades of meekness, courtesy, humility, kindness, and respect that are necessary when maneuvering around a minefield of human emotional volatility and instinctive folly.

What About the Perfect Man?

Even a perfect human is hardly acceptable to me in this sense because I see little reason to engage with them beyond in a professional sense. If marriage and reproduction were a job, then I would have no issues with performing the task if expected to do so through government conscription or some inescapable social obligation, but as this is not a legitimate professional job, and I take little pleasure in engaging with humans, it becomes entirely unattempting.

Even the perfect person would work hard, carry on their business, and benefit society without being dependent upon any sort of social or romantic interaction to satiate the pain induced by a flawed ego. They would still reproduce out of a sense of duty and general benevolence, but again not for any sort of emotional, sexual, or psychological fulfillment. Perhaps my interpretation of a perfect person is very neutered and dehumanizing, but it is the psycho-sexual and humanized character that I find to be the source of flaws in the first place.

The foremost flaw with pursuing human interaction is the needless and avoidable risks of physical and psychological abuse, economic damage, a taxing and burdensome relationship of obligation, and the general fallibility of the species when it comes to any long-term commitment to an activity due to the capacity to readily become discontented and subsequently folly due to the stress induced by a stagnant life.

Beyond these general risks, the human mind I find far too often legitimizes its ego independent of its own flaws, in that it will generally forcibly and self-righteously assert its legitimacy and worthiness despite having countless palpable facets that make it illegitimate and unworthy. To tolerate a flawed man is to coddle his delusions and pretend he is perfect, it is to turn a blind eye to flaws, and as a very critical person, that’s something I have difficulty doing.

I can’t turn a blind eye to the flaws in a man because they remain palpable. I can sense his flaws in the way his words, facial expressions, mannerisms, and actions depict the psychological strife that plagues his mind. I can see how his entire psychological paradigm revolves around his incessant need to satiate his fragile ego in order to prevent crippling pain if it were to be presented with the reality it so desperately seeks to escape.

His fear of pain being inflicted upon his ego causes his actions to always reflect this self-preservation and self-defense, often which consists of squabbling, pettiness, sycophantly, or some sort of aggressive self-righteousness under the mantra of “might makes right”.

It’s hard to appreciate and respect a man when you can generally understand exactly what motivates his often-disagreeable actions, largely because these motivations reflect a fragility, weakness, insecurity, and childish nature that is unappealing due to the burden and taxation it places upon those who must incessantly satiate it in order to avoid conflict.

The Chaos of a Man’s Mind

The chaos of a man’s mind is comparable to the minds of those consumed by drug addiction or mental retardation, albeit to a lesser extent in the everyman. He is generally driven by the same needs of seeking constant gratification while failing to understand reality. These two forces work in tandem to produce an ego substantiated by delusions of legitimacy, which force those who interact with him to coddle these delusions or face his wrath, for when his self-worth and easily his will to live are dependent upon these things, he will defend them as if they were immutable truth dictated by God himself.

A man’s mind, and a woman’s mind for that matter, are governed by a system of sadomasochism, of both inflicting and receiving pain then attempting to utilize these events to substantiate some form of ego or self-worth. His mind is largely consumed by this indefinite pursuit of satiation, leaving him little time to contemplate reality, to learn, to better himself, or to exist as anything beyond a drug addict scraping the floors of the world for some form of validation for his ego that will allow him to suppress the pain of his own self-doubts.

Even if he may do noble deeds to satiate this desire, or he has countless merits to his name, these do not satiate his ego, but instead only provide him temporary reprieve which must constantly be affirmed by those he interacts with. Within a man’s mind is an endless and eternal struggle to stave off the pain of a shattered ego which is preemptively and constantly experienced due to the fear of this possibility induced by his own fragility and constant self-doubt.

This doubt stems from the fact that he subtly and vaguely understands that his ego is illegitimate, but he cannot comprehend exactly why it is so flawed, nor can he understand why this fragility it causes him such stress and pain, and this leaves him with no ability to resolve the root of the problem. This reflects the general ineptitude and lack of self-awareness that unfortunately defines most every man alive, even those who are perceived to be intelligent.

It is this nigh-blind man attempting to fight his way through the darkness of his own fragility and self-doubt which leads to this unending consumptive disease of egotistical social sadomasochism with which he relies upon to satiate his ego. He cannot understand why his ego is fragile, he cannot understand how to fix it, so instead he constantly seeks the analgesia provided when other people approve of him and satiate his ego.

Though the vast majority of the world finds themselves very contented by this circle-jerk of fragile egos, and while it is the basis of most every human romantic relationship, this is something which I find unnerving and unsettling. The man with the fragile ego causes me to doubt him in the same right that he doubts himself. I sense his insecurity and this gives me a strong intuitive reason to understand that he is illegitimate despite any facade he may attempt to put forward.

This is what pushes me away, because I know his ego is sickly, for lack of a better word, and were I to tolerate him, this would in turn require me to provide treatment for his fragile ego or face consequences of discontentment, sadness, rage, anger, spite, malice, or otherwise negativity were I to fail to do this.

I may be compassionate from a distance, but I am not one to actually get close to animals or touch them. I know they are dangerous, at least potentially dangerous, and as I am not a gambler, I try to keep my distance. I have learned from experience how dangerous men are, and these are not lessons I am likely to forget. Perhaps I am flawed in some way for being so averse to human contact and distrusting of the species, but they have given me little reason to trust them and there’s not much I find appealing about a clammy rotting psychologically unstable meatbag intimidating the fuck out of me with the chaotic presence of its volatile, ambulatory, impulsive, and irrational nature.

Man is a chaotic beast, but hardly in some badass way, save for perhaps a very rare breed, but rather in some tragic self-destructive, desperate, and sadomasochistic type of way. A truly irrational, desperate, and childlike beast that needs to be coddled with baseless ego stroking, simply to protect it from the crippling pain which would ensue if they were to acknowledge the reality of the world, of themselves, or their own lives, and of their own innumerable flaws.

This is Why I Love Fake Plastic Trees

These trees I find to be some of the most psychologically and romantically attractive individuals, simply due to the absence of the chaotic volatility of man. They exist as a quiet, calming monotone psychologically, while the psychology of a man can be anything from a dismal half-assed melody to a discordant, arhythmic cacophony of chaos. Despite any coherence or semblance of quality that emanates from the symphony of a man’s life, the undertones of his volatility and fragility always detract from the ability to put faith in the man.

The psychological “ambiance” of the two nouns leaves me far more attracted to the plastic trees, simply because they are so more reliable, contented, self-reliant, and self-legitimizing than man is.

Man constantly suffers due to the thoughts of his own inadequacy, and rapidly as he ages becomes consumed by the fear of death. I display him as a tragic figure, rather than as an antagonistic one, simply out of an attempt to respect him. The unfortunate reality is that antagonistic antisocial paradigms just as much define the man as the tragic ones, as often these paradigms are the most efficient way for him to satiate his ego. Again, the plastic tree is absent of all of these disagreeable and volatile tendencies, which makes it a far more approachable and sensible romantic partner.

It is not that I feel romantically inclined towards trees, it’s just that when I attempt to consider romance with a human, it is hard to imagine why the beast would somehow be more preferable or enjoyable company than the plastic tree. Clearly, he is much more disagreeable and unpleasant, far more volatile, and while you may gamble and win sometimes, often times you just break even, and sometimes you lose.

I’m not a gambler. I see no reason to gamble in this pursuit when the odds of winning are lower than the odds of losing. Beyond this, when the cost of “paying for a spin on the wheel” is so incredibly high despite the odds of at best breaking even on a good day, this is how I have in the days of my youth found myself with a considerable amount of my “life capital” being inaccessible and irredeemable due to being so confined by the daily “wheel spinning” of human interactions that a relationship bound even by the most modest, casual, or unassuming obligations requires.

With only so many hours of the day, why would I waste them gambling in such a way that will seldom win, often amount to nothing, and occasionally be more unpleasant than if I had not gambled them in the first place? Even if I lose nothing, I am also gaining nothing, and what I am losing in this process is the “ticket” or an hour of my day which has now been invested into this relationship which provides me no return on investment.

If you knew a man was down the street, and he would gladly pay you $10 if you give him $10, at what point does this ever become a tempting offer? Why would you take an hour out of your day to walk down the street to see this man, just to exchange your tenner for his tenner?

I don’t find this tempting, but clearly, I have very different social and sexual needs than most people, because I don’t feel loneliness or any desire for social contact, and my libido is generally quite low.

The beauty of the plastic tree is that it does not require upkeep. It is a one-time investment and there is no further investment in upkeep costs. This is why I wouldn’t consider live plants to be comparable, even if they do share the superior psychological state, simply due to the necessary upkeep associated with caring for live plants.

The plastic tree does not age, suffer, doubt, and agonize in such a way that I am incessantly forced to tend to it, and this is what I would expect in a legitimate man were he to exist. The comedy is that were a man’s ego so readily satiated and contented, I’m sure he would have little interest in engaging with women due to being well aware of the taxing and burdensome constraints and obligations that such relationships place upon the life of a human.

It is either through carnal instinct or psychological frailty that men seek to engage with women, and neither of these would compel a perfect man, much like how these do not compel a plastic tree. Again, being a legitimate human, he would likely feel compelled to reproduce out of benevolence and a sense of duty to society, but beyond that I see a man like that finding little satisfaction in the tolerance of another human for the sake of entertainment or some sort of psychological satiation.

The one situation I might consider a legitimate man to voluntarily enjoy the company of a romantic and sexual partner is if they were both occupied with the same profession and found each other’s company to be mutually beneficial towards the desired productive ends. Then, as an extension of the work relationship, engaged in romance and sex as way to ensure psychological health and as a token of mutual admiration, appreciation, respect, love, and benevolence.

This is simply because they cannot work 100% of the time, and this is a healthy and beneficial activity to engage in during time after work. They are more so devoted to work than each other, but this ménage à trois leads to a mutual sense of romance and sexuality, with much of it being sourced from both the quality and dedication to the work as exhibited by both people. It’s a way of paying sexual duty and exhibiting humility towards the work which is revered by both people. These people are in love with their work and their desire to benefit society, and they by coincidence they can express and appreciate this expression through mutual sexuality. Each person here serving as a token representing the line of work to which each is equally as dedicated to, thus is very willing to make love to.

Clearly this is a very rare situation of two high quality people being able to engage in a romantic and sexual relationship as a proxy of their dedication to their work. Their focus is not to find psychological, egotistical, or romantic satisfaction, but rather to enjoy the love of their work and appreciate and respect the selfless benevolence of their fellow laborers after the workday is done. This is not something I would in any way consider to be a reasonable or attainable expectation.

Still, the Plastic Tree

Still, from my perspective, that plastic tree is capable of satiating whatever minimal emotional and psychological needs I have, I generally understand myself to have none, and that makes it a very agreeable spouse in that I invest so little and attain what little I need. Clearly the tree is psychologically superior in its consistency and lack of ego, and beyond that, the physical ability to avoid aging makes it a far more valid long-term investment than a human that will slowly rot and begin to blight the world and those in proximity to it with geriatrics and the agonizing fear of death.

I know people will say “compassion”, but I feel the same compassion towards a plastic tree that I do a human, and as the tree does nothing to dissuade me from tolerating it while the human does, the compassion seems to be far more justifiable when directed towards the tree. The tree does not expect sex, it does not touch me, and it expects nothing from me, and it poses no danger to me, and that’s a position I feel very comfortable existing in.

I see eye-to-eye with a plastic tree far more than I do a man consumed by his own fragility and folly. The plastic tree is again absent of this capacity to err due to emotional and psychological stress, and that dependability is what makes it such an agreeable and legitimate spouse. I can relate to the level-headed and tranquil nature of a tree more than I can to an ambulatory restless meatbag driven by the vestigial instincts that define the mind of an animal.

This is not to say live plants are inferior to plastic plants, as I do respect plants, but the level of commitment in regards to upkeep is simply more than I’m willing to perform. This is not an error on the part of live plants, but simply an expression of my own narcissism and general disregard for others.

What Can I Do?

Unfortunately, a plastic tree is not a “valid spouse” in the eyes of the general public, so my silly fantasy of claiming a plastic tree for a spouse and being treated as adequately normal as other married people is not particularly attainable. I write this argument simply to express some feelings about the topic, which I’m sure many other single people in their 30s struggle with.

Perhaps I will just bear the pain of being seen as abnormal, claiming that I’m allegedly undertaking some effort to find a spouse if they were to ask me, not with any real conviction, but just enough to appear normal. That is likely the most reasonable course of action, but again the safety of this strategy depends upon the extent to which people pry, but generally I am distant enough and successfully socially isolate myself to the point where they don’t pry and instead see me as a background character.

I mention the strategy of lying about pursuing a spouse considering that were I to actually tolerate and cohabitate with a beast, this would cause considerable stress. This stress would threaten the peace attained by my general indifference to being alive and would possibly push this towards a general disinterest in being alive, which does not exactly bode well for my life expectancy.

I would much rather be perceived as an undesirable individual than somebody who is a sexual deviant or sexually dysfunctional, because these are traits which are more abnormal than simply being a sexual or social failure.

I am unwilling to use my mental illness as an excuse to avert the expectation of marriage because I tell nobody about this illness to avoid social stigma. This leaves me with no viable option other than to allege that I am pursuing a spouse, which does leave me vulnerable to the married majority who might want to set me up on dates with the dysfunctional people left in the singles pool at my age, but those situations are easy enough to avoid.

I’m generally avoidant, distant, and cold enough to ensure that people don’t feel comfortable enough around me to ask me about intimate non-work-related things such as relationships, and the fact that I quickly brush them aside allows them to take a hint. They assume that due to myself being physically attractive that I have a healthy romance life and sex life, and see no reason to pry further.

Since I don’t engage with them on social media, they presume our relationship to be one of acquaintances rather than friends. This is an advantage of avoiding social media, because they have no evidence to contradict their presumption of my healthy social and sex life, thus see no reason to question this presumption.


Clearly my disposition here is heavily influenced by the fact that I am skittish, paranoid, and dissociated, but never the less, this is just a perspective if you were feeling disheartened by the world or wanted to engage with a mentally ill person.

As for single people in their thirties, I can only presume they’re comparably as dysfunctional as myself, or otherwise entirely undesirable, which really allows me to sleep easily knowing that there’s nothing of value to be lost by remaining single. You can sleep easy knowing that there’s nothing romantically desirable about myself. You’re not missing anything.

The irony is that I myself remain far more disconcerted by old singles than I do by married people who might see me as abnormal. When you are single at this age, I just think, why? What is wrong with you that leaves you to be picked last in the world?

This aged singleness is indicative of some sort of flaw, as clearly, I myself am considerably flawed and dysfunctional. I know what’s wrong with me, and when you’re somehow similar to myself, this is worrying. There’s absolutely nothing tempting about finding some person who is comparably dysfunctional as myself and engaging with them, especially when I get no social or sexual pleasure out of such interactions.

Thankfully I enjoy my own company and feel no desire for social contact. This argument about marriage was again written entirely due to the modest desire to be able to avoid being seen as abnormal by the general public on account of my marital status. It is not due to any desire to have social or intimate relationships with another human.

If you are a fake plastic tree, do know that I respect you and believe you to be a high-quality potential spouse, even if society may not respect this fact. This is not to say that I own a plastic tree, as I see it as a needless investment at this point in time, but if I were able to pass a plastic tree off as a legitimate, normal, and socially acceptable spouse, I would certainly have one, and there would be a picture of me and my plastic tree spouse on my desk just to show everybody how normal I am.

In all honesty, I do love plastic trees, simply because they do nothing to be unworthy of love. It is not that I am unfeeling, as I generally love all things by default, it’s simply that humans do so many things that dissuade me from loving them that they’re some of the most undesirable company, especially when compared to far more agreeable and self-legitimizing nouns like plastic trees.

The inspiration for writing this article was my thinking of a plastic tree as a viable spouse, then thinking of the old Radiohead song Fake Plastic Trees. I actually listened to this song and realized that Yorke depicts them in a somewhat negative or depressing light, despite, from my perspective, fake plastic trees are a far more enjoyable, positive, happy, agreeable, benevolent, aesthetically pleasing, safe, and psychologically stable noun than humans.

I was a bit disappointed about the negativity, as I do feel plastic trees are generally superior to humans, with the only redeeming factor of humans being the capacity to reproduce, because by all other metrics plastic trees are generally going to win any contest of legitimacy.

I wrote this to defend a respectable noun that I feel, in all irony, was successfully used a foil to contrast how the dysfunctional human sees himself as superior and “suffering” in the company of the objectively more so legitimate and higher quality fake plastic tree.

Marzipan is a person




Used to write things, a couple books. Delusions of being able to help humanity faded. Now I'm mostly just waiting to die.

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Marzipan Maddox

Marzipan Maddox

Used to write things, a couple books. Delusions of being able to help humanity faded. Now I'm mostly just waiting to die.

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