A Mild Eureka Moment

Remember how a while back I ventured some thoughts on commitment? You know, where I said I had no real idea what it was all about as far as my own little world was concerned, and that I probably just knew more about what I “didn’t” want instead. Well since then I’ve been trying to change my ways somewhat (well you were beginning to get critical about the old ones weren’t you) but this has so far proved fairly dissatisfying. Until now…

Kind of anyway, in as much as I’ve recently experienced something I’d term a “mild Eureka moment” (rather than perhaps that thunderbolt moment a dear acquaintance of mine holds great stock in), and one that, I have to say, may have just made things a tad clearer.

The other week I was dissecting the current malaise in the recruitment industry with colleagues and competitors at a supposedly morale boosting conference the powers that be at my gaff had seen fit to send me to and report back on. Cloaked in my current apathy, I at some point fell languidly into dismissive conversation with another recruiter of about my age, possibly older, who’d seemed so nondescript and inconsequential at the outset of our banter, and yet who by the end of it I’d in fact unexpectedly warmed to. Not in the way you think though. Whilst this might sound vaguely similar to that girl from university way back when, or even the troubling green-eyed Dane last year, it really wasn’t like that. Indeed it might be better to say I just felt rather “warmed” by the end of it, rather than that I was “warming” to her in particular.

Why? Well, once we’d moved from the collective miserable experience of our employ which had at least cemented our acquaintanceship in mutually exchanged sardonic wit, we got onto her instead (you know me; it remains much easier deflecting the conversation onto someone else as I so hate being verbally evaluated). And now there was a difference because a wry smile which had snuck onto her face amidst our shared mock cynicism (and which had really done wonders to it by doing so) then broadened into something far… lovelier, helped by brown eyes that began to stare just that little bit longer and coquettish flick or two of the hair. Oh don’t get me wrong. I knew she wasn’t at all interested in me beyond the mild flirt we can all be guilty of when in relaxed company with a member of the opposite sex (some things one can’t just help). Besides, the main reason for her increasingly chilled demeanour stemmed more from her telling me about her forthcoming wedding, and the more she talked, the more alive she became in just a down to earth sort of way which whilst it wasn’t overwhelming wasn’t underwhelming either.

Okay, so I always do this don’t I? I always eulogise about these lovely women I meet and how it is that I’m drawn to certain personalities and how that’s what I’ve always preferred as far as even just the bedroom is concerned (once I found I really could achieve a regular sex life that is). But in this instance I just liked her because of the way she appeared to be in “love” without having to overstate it, and that she was simply nice, funny, natural (in fact I don’t really know how else to describe it) and when we eventually parted (it was just a throwaway chat after all), that “warmth” was, as I said, more about “what” I had encountered than “who” – hence the “mild” Eureka over the headblast.
Et voila! That was what Sammie’s “Show me more” was all about. Where I could be me, and she could be her; but without all the performance bollocks we feel we have to put on in-between.

And that’s when I realised what I’d been missing in the whole commitment thing.  There she was talking about her marriage/her relationship like it was the most normal thing in the world. No hyperbole, no frills, no unrealistic expectations; just something that unremarkably worked for her (and him no doubt) and made her (and him) happy in a secure rather than just “settling for” way. Of course whilst that also reinforced my oft quoted attraction to maturity (which to be fair could be argued has little to do with one’s age), it made me see that perhaps I’d been rather hard on myself re my aforementioned sloth and all those previous system shut downs that post you know who symbolised many of my subsequent liaisons. I’m not saying here I want to get hitched by the way. Commitment works in many forms. But that’s the point.

You see maybe the so-called players aren’t afraid of commitment as is sometimes levelled at them in that whole Venus/Mars sham of a generalisation. Maybe it’s simply the case that some chaps are just so afraid to commit to the “wrong” person that’s all, and that unless it feels right, and for whatever reason, they ain’t going to say the words. Plenty of women use this explanation so isn’t it just the same thing? Okay so maybe these same chaps should come clean about how they really “do” feel; particularly if they’re NOT into anything heavy with the person they’re enjoying whatever dalliance with. But that’s more about lack of communication than lack of commitment so could that be where the fear lies instead, the fear to communicate?

Maybe I’ve been guilty of that in the recent past, if unintentionally (although that’s a marked change from all those “before” years when I couldn’t even say boo to a sexy goose). Yet I’ve made myself move on from that now. The butterfly has morphed again, whilst nonetheless retaining all the good from his original metamorphosis. What’s been holding me back lately though is that lack of neon insight into where this all was going. But in a single conversation (my life has often been affected by single conversations) with a pretty cool person I think I’m finally onto something.

It’s not her though, it really isn’t. We didn’t click like that, and you do need that “click”. But I’ve an inkling it’s somebody like her.

And for now, that’s good enough to go on…

 

By Bastian Dash See more of his musings on TBW Xtra on your personal home page

Get the latest from the blog:

Comments