the drive of passion

Last week, I did something I’ve always wanted to do. Something I’m not sure why I hadn’t done yet. I’ve always wanted a fish tank filled to the brim with live plants, with no other fish beside live-bearers—such as mollies, swordtails, moons, platties, and, my all time favorite, guppies. The fishtank that HWMNBN and I had in the kitchen broke the other day, so I decided to look for a new tank. After much research on the internet, trying to find a nice used tank for cheap, I went to PetSmart to get crickets for the Harry Potter terrarium. They had these gorgeous bow-front takes on sale. I got a bigger one than what I had been looking at used for tons cheaper than I could find anywhere else. So, I now have a rather large tank behind my kitchen sink filled with live plants. It is beautiful. Like I have a little section of nature in my house. Live plants are cheap too. Most of the ones I got were $1.50!
I’ve spent ridiculous amounts of time with the lights off in the kitchen, leaning on the sink, gazing at the fish as they cavort in their little world. It’s gonna be a mess when I bring the Potter tank home at breaks. I’m never gonna get anything done!
It seems that fish are pretty much human, or at least driven by the same things that drive most people (not me, of course, others… always others). They are constantly eating. They are constantly having sex. That’s it. They do nothing else. For some reason, I didn’t even catch on to the sex thing for quite awhile; I was just enjoying their swimming antics. It quickly became apparent that all they were doing was having sex. Granted, from what I can see, the females aren’t really into it as much as the males (sooooo glad I’m gay!), but that doesn’t seem to stop the boys. You’d think these little fish would tire out, but no. The are racing here and there, constantly chasing tail (literally and figuratively) every moment of their existence, and stopping to nibble on some food along the way. They don’t even seem to care if the female is already pregnant. You’d think the poor girl would look forward to being pregnant so that that could get a few moments peace. Apparently, her allure doesn’t allow such luxury.
At this rate, the little ‘bathhouse’ in my kitchen is going to be so full of babies from all the copulating (again, soooo glad I’m gay!) that I’m going to have to have friends over for a fish fry.
Either way, it’s rather telling how much I relate to my little fish. And truth be told, you probably do too.