I was out running with a male friend of mine the other day. I have to confess that during our runs, we do talk a lot of sh*t. But it makes us both laugh, and keeps us going the extra mile.
Anyway, earlier this week, the subject of my sex life came up… as is often the case these days. It seems that married people are desperate to know whether us ‘single women’ are getting more or less action than they are!
And so the conversation progressed to the idea of an 8th Day. An extra day in the week, when none of the usual rules of social conduct apply.
Imagine that on this day you could do whatever you like, with whomever you like, no holds barred and no ramifications when you get back to the seven day week. Sounds cool, right?
Well, it does to begin with. But then we decide that there actually had to be some rules. The rules about how we would interact with people when we went back to the seven day week.
What if we had an attraction to someone’s other half? What if, on this 8th day, we did something about it. How would we face that ‘someone’ having had a bit of ‘you know what’ with their other half? Or if, like my running partner, you were married, would you not feel some guilt?
Under the rules of this 8th day, there is no way of getting round the fact that we would have to remember what we’d done, and live with it.
So, when push comes to shove, would any of us really want it? Say for example that on our 8th day we met someone who moved us to cosmic ecstasy (credit to @OutsideToilet for that phrase), how would we feel when, for the rest of the week, we had to go back to our humdrum lives? Would it not just make us question whether we were ‘happy’? Despite knowing that this ‘cosmic ecstasy’ was only possible because of it being the 8th day, owing to never having to argue over whose turn it is to make supper, empty the dishwasher, or take the bins out.
Surely what makes a successful relationship ‘successful’, is the ability to share. To share intimacy for one, but also the small kindnesses in life.
The fantasy of our 8th day ‘person’ would be somewhat diminished if we saw them the following morning, hair dishevelled, looking hung over, and not taking the bin out… even though it was their turn.
What makes people ultimately happy, is not the candle lit dinners, or weekends away, but the combination of these things and the sharing of life’s ‘crap’. Making us feel that the burden is not on our shoulders alone. Being able to laugh at the stupid things that go wrong. And by seeing just how weakly human another person is, feeling more comfortable with our own weaknesses.
The 8th day is a great fantasy. And having the lucid imagination that I have, it’s fun to discuss. But the grass is rarely greener.
Ultimate happiness lies in accepting the humdrum world and finding someone to enjoy sharing it with.