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What Happens When A "Tree Hugger" Falls For A "Tree Hater?"

"What's one more can of paint in the ocean? It's really big." "Why cut up those plastic six-pack rings? We can live without the animals that get caught in them." "You environmentalists are wasting your time. The world has been here for millions of years and will continue to be for millions more, no matter what we do to it." "People don't care about the environment; they care about their wallets."

So say the skeptics, non-believers and "tree haters." We've all met one or two of them. I know the type well. I'm dating one.

A couple of weeks ago, my boyfriend Joe (a pseudonym), used a paper towel to wipe bird droppings off his new car's hood. Joe threw the used towel on the ground as if it were a matter of course. After gently reminding him that the parking lot is not a garbage bin, I asked him what his reaction would have been if the bird had aimed through the open sunroof.

"Its nest would have come down," he said.

Tossing things out of the car window is a habit for Joe. Gum or wrappers, Kleenex, McDonald's styrofoam and any other trash gets disposed of with a toss of the hand. "Better outside than in," he maintains. And he thinks pesticides "are awesome. I hate bugs. Our lawn is bug-free. None of them will live there." Small wonder.

Despite his habits and espoused beliefs, Joe insists he's not a "tree hater," but "if there's a better use for land than having trees on it, I'd cut them down. I don't mean bulldozing parks or state forests. But if you own a home with an acre of land and lots of trees, why not clear the trees and slap a pool, tennis court or nice lawn out there?"

Obviously, our beliefs about people and the world are as far apart as the North and South Poles. Our political pairing fits the Mary Matalin/James Carville mold, and Joe also serves as my resident Rushite. While I wouldn't consider him a "ditto head," Joe does think that "a lot of what Limbaugh says is true." But, he hastens to add, Limbaugh "only talks about the environment briefly in his books."

Recently, when I asked Joe for his image of environmentalists, he said, "Long-haired, pot-smoking Deadhead losers who have nothing better to do with their lives. If they worked 60 hours a week, they'd be too busy to worry about that crap."

This comes from a man who three years ago admonished me for not recycling my office paper properly. "If you tear it up like that," he said, "they can't recycle it as easily." I pointed out that just showing concern about recycling paper made him an environmentalist. "And," I added, "have you considered that every time you cart a blue bin out to the corner, you're also being an environmentalist? You're doing something to help the Earth." He was stumped. Maybe I finally made him think.

I'd never presume to try to "convert" Joe. I consider being with him a lesson in accepting other people for who they are. He has strong opinions, and while I usually don't agree with them, I at least have to respect him for not being apathetic.

We've learned not to argue about politics and the environment. But he does like to mull over ideas I've planted in his mind and "introduce" them to me as "something new." Maybe he'll even catch some of my eco-thoughts. Stranger things have been known to happen.

KRISTEN M. QUIRK is E's assistant editor.