When a Potted Herb Plant Taught Me About Love

The Basil Plant That Changed Everything

It all started with a basil plant. Yes, basil—the herb commonly associated with Italian cooking and summer salads. It wasn’t even a particularly healthy basil plant. There it sat, wilting slightly on the windowsill of my Vancouver apartment, looking like it had more regrets than the lead character of a mediocre romantic comedy.

I bought it on a whim during one of those “I’m going to start cooking more at home!” phases. (Spoiler: I did not start cooking more at home.) On my way to the grocery store, I had been feeling deeply uninspired—in life, in love, and honestly, even in lunch. A recent relationship had fallen apart with all the elegance of a collapsing Jenga tower, and I was floating through the aftermath, unsure of how to rebuild myself.

The basil, I thought, would be my first step toward renewal. Simple, small, manageable—unlike adult relationships, which by then felt a bit like rehearsing for a role I didn’t remember auditioning for. That basil plant didn’t know it yet, but it was about to become the unexpected therapist I never asked for.

The Lessons of Basil: A Practical Guide to Patience

I watered the plant obsessively for the first two days, expecting immediate signs of vibrancy. When the leaves drooped even further, I assumed it was a lost cause. But after a quick Google search (and let’s be honest, five YouTube rabbit holes later), I realized the issue: like relationships, plants need balance. Too much water, and the roots suffocate. Too little, and the leaves wither.

It felt oddly profound for a Saturday morning epiphany. Was I terrible at taking care of basil, or had I just stumbled upon the most obvious metaphor of all time?

Here’s the thing no one tells you about taking care of plants—or people, for that matter: progress is painfully slow. You don’t witness transformation overnight. Instead, it’s incremental: a little healthier day by day, an unexpected sprout (or laugh, or text message) here and there. Therein lies the beauty. We can’t force growth, but we can give it the right conditions.

What My Basil Taught Me:
- Stop Overwatering to Feel Useful: Sometimes the instinct to overdo it comes from our own insecurities, not a genuine need.
- Let Things Breathe: Whether it’s a plant’s soil or a romantic connection, leave a little room for air and autonomy.
- Look for the Small Wins: Instead of obsessing over the big picture, notice the smaller, quieter moments of progress.

A Reminder That Growth is Not Linear

Over the weeks, keeping that basil alive became an oddly spiritual experience. I learned about pruning—a fancy word for cutting off unhealthy parts of the plant so the whole thing thrives. It turns out basil plants, like friendships or relationships, will slap you with reality if you hoard dead weight too long.

Pruning is an act of hope: an acknowledgment that cutting back now will enable growth later. If that’s not the most poetic way to talk about breakups, then I don’t know what is.

Oh, and speaking of non-linear growth: I accidentally left the poor basil on my balcony during Vancouver’s rainy season. It flooded and looked (yet again) like it wasn’t going to pull through. But after a few days of recovery, it came back even stronger.

Moral of the story? Setbacks are inevitable. The comeback, though? That’s where the magic is.

Flirting with Life (and Yourself)

One day, as I was clipping fresh basil leaves and feeling a little too pleased with myself, it hit me: I had become the kind of person who took care of something. That was a big deal after months of post-breakup wallowing, during which my couch and I had developed an unhealthily codependent relationship.

That silly little basil plant reminded me that I was capable of nurturing—not just plants, but people, passions, myself.

More importantly, I learned that flirting isn’t just for dating. It’s a lifestyle choice. You can flirt with new hobbies, new clothes, and yes, a new sense of self. Just as you might approach someone at a café with a charming “Why not?” attitude, you should approach the rest of your life with just as much curiosity.

Here are some ways to flirt with life, basil-style:
- Take Small Risks: Buy the basil plant. Sign up for that cooking class. Call the friend you’ve been missing.
- Nurture, Without Overthinking: Find joy in the process rather than fixating on where it will lead. This applies to dating and amateur gardening.
- Focus on Presence: Rather than dwelling on whether your efforts will “pay off,” focus on enjoying what’s right in front of you.

Planting Seeds of Connection

While my basil and I were growing side-by-side, something else happened: I started to re-engage with the world. A friendly exchange with a stranger at the farmer’s market, a lingering hug with an old friend, a spontaneous dinner invite—these moments no longer felt pointless or scary.

Dating, I realized, isn’t just about finding "the one" or crafting perfect meet-cutes worthy of a Nora Ephron screenplay. It’s about planting small seeds of connection everywhere you go—confident that some will sprout.

I’m not saying you should gift someone basil on a first date (though let’s be real, it’s better than flowers). But consider this: taking care of that plant taught me more about patience, growth, and resilience than most self-help books ever could. And when I finally felt ready to date again, I brought that energy with me: softer, curiosity-driven, patient.

Cultivating Hope in the Everyday

My basil plant eventually grew tall and bushy enough to make actual pesto, which felt like a triumph but also kind of the end of an era. By the time it made its second pasta debut, I’d started dating someone new, someone kind and balanced and as into terrible puns as I was.

I still keep a plant on the windowsill as a reminder: no matter how complicated life or love gets, there’s always time to nurture something. Maybe it’s yourself, maybe it’s someone else, or maybe it’s just a sad little herb desperately clinging to life in dim apartment lighting.

Whatever it is, trust in the process. Whether you’re planting basil or connection, growth always springs from the unexpected. And sometimes, it’s as simple as a potted plant reminding you that love—like life—is built on small, consistent acts of care.