Tild Reconsiders

Tild had aged again and she knew that this was in part because she kept telling herself she was getting older.  Six months ago she had digressed from a relationship into solitude and singlehood.  This was done in adherence to her own rules of engagement.  As convinced as she was that this had to be the last time she would enter into such a dalliance, it was now becoming somewhat difficult for her to define her new existence.

You see, Tild liked the idea of finally acknowledging her shortcomings in the "relationship department".  But what was fast becoming apparent was that she had not thought about how to conduct the new improved version of herself.  She reflected upon her past entanglements and wrote down the common threads that had run through all of them.  They were in no particular order:

None read books.
None owned their own house.
None shared the same social views.
None shared the same political views.
None were good at and/or liked dancing.

All drank alcohol.
All were physically attractive.
All carried an air of "macho-ism".
All were restricted to one genre of music.
All demonstrated a level of immaturity and irresponsibility.

As Tild went back over her basic list, she realized that there was one other common factor that had existed throughout all of the prior relationships.  The thought leapt down the right side of her neck and across her shoulder.  But Tild had stopped it short and it retreated back into the safety of her private mind.  However, this one factor had integrity and the next time it appeared, it bolted down the length of her arm, across her bony wrist, and into her index finger and thumb.  The nib of her pen trembled.  It was there, ready to be acknowledged, ready to burst free.  Tild closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  Why was she so reluctant to admit this?  Was it really that deep?  The pen fell from her grasp.  She bent her head, clasping her forehead.  For it was true.  Every long term relationship had begun with pure, unadulterated sex.

The negative side of Tild's conscience ached as it automatically began to pour forth a tirade of derogatory terms to describe herself.

The positive side sat patiently waiting for the verbal beating to cease.  Only then, did it begin to formulate a rational plan designed to make sense of it all.

It began as a small red dot that was overshadowed by the black thundering guilty thoughts. Wait.  Consider this:  It is simply a matter of substitution as opposed to prostitution.  First begin with substituting the word "sex" with the word "passion".  And Tild did.

" .. every long term relationship she had entered into had begun with pure unadulterated passion."

She breathed in and as she did so the red dot was fueled.  It had now become a red blot and the black clouds had begun to dissolve.

"Hmm" thought Tild.  "What does this mean?  "Perhaps I have to admit that I like unencumbered physical contact?"  Then, the thought occurred to her that she had never intentionally mixed mind and body.  Her mind continued to muse.  Was it that her physical need had always overruled a true desire to become entangled with a soul mate?  If that was the case, then it was no bloody wonder that she had not (thus far) found one.

And so what now? Would this revelation change how Tild went forward?  If so, how?  Was it time to try again given this new acknowledgement?

A few weeks later, an invitation to visit a long time male friend had arrived.  Tild had always liked him and had felt comfortable in his company.  Over the years, she had contemplated him as a "possible", but the opportunity never presented itself.  Either she had been entangled, or he was.  Besides that he did not quite fit the bill relative to the makeup of her past boyfriends.  Anyway, curiously enough at this point in time they were both single.

And so Tild decided to conduct an experiment.  What if she accepted the invitation and approached the proposal in a whole different way?  But first she had to review her list of common traits to see how he was different to her priors. 

Although he did not read books, he did own his own house, drank responsibly, was mature, and he liked dancing. Although they did not share the same political views, he was physically attractive, did not demonstrate any form of macho-ism, and like an array of music.  Tild's analytical mind went into overdrive.  Statistically, 100% of her prior partners had only 20% of what she was really looking for! This had resulted in a 100% failure rate over an average dating life of 2.5 years per partner.

Following these astounding facts, Tild had no choice but to conduct a risk analysis on the new potential to determine whether or not she would even accept any romantic advances from her friend.  According to her calculations and based on what she knew of him, her suitor had a potential success rating of 80%. A small ray of hope dictated that both corners of Tild's mouth pull up.  Her right hand involuntarily reached up to cover a rather satisfied smile.  All was not lost.  It would be worth the risk of discovery.  And she was so immensely proud of herself for this was the first time she had ever paused for thought before entering into the unknown.

Of course, the only thing left to consider was her apparent insatiable desire for "unencumbered passion".  But as this thought came upon her she pushed it back into the safety of her private mind.  There it would stay in abeyance until such time as her calculations were proved correct.  "Then, and only then" said Tild with determination, "will I unleash the passion within!"  Stay tuned!