The Experiment. Dating story

My friend Miroslava — Mira to her friends — had astonished me ever since our university days with her incredible logic and with the uses she found for it. My favourite example: everywhere and always she stressed how independent she was, how she had absolutely no need of men whatsoever, and at the same time she was devoutly certain that every man around was making eyes at her. Well, if not at her, then perhaps at me, however much I denied it. It was rather like counting up the signs of attention in the old film about Cinderella, but not even that comparison could stop Mira.

What is more, for her contradiction did not exist in principle. What existed was the present moment as a starting point and a multitude of directions to dash off in, so as to try something new in life, and even Mira herself could not always say in advance which temptation would take her fancy a minute later. Though there was a set of subjects that never stopped interesting her: books, ecology, psychology, horses, diving... The peak of our friendship fell exactly on my unmarried and childless years, so we chased around after Mira's adventures almost always together.

What is more, for her contradiction did not exist in principle. What existed was the present moment as a starting point and a multitude of directions to dash off in, so as to try something new in life, and even Mira herself could not always say in advance which temptation would take her fancy a minute later. Though there was a set of subjects that never stopped interesting her: books, ecology, psychology, horses, diving... The peak of our friendship fell exactly on my unmarried and childless years, so we chased around after Mira's adventures almost always together.

We met Philipp, Phil to his friends, at a blood donation event, where Mira instantly announced that he was looking at me. He was a slightly angular young man with an X-ray stare, an artistic mess on his head and his arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“And why not at you?” I asked.

“Because I don’t need anybody!”

“And I don’t need anybody either! And he certainly doesn’t!”

“Nothing of the sort! That simply doesn’t happen! I’ll introduce you!”

And Mira shot off in Philipp’s direction so fast that I had time neither to protest nor to stop her. Phil, as it turned out, could not stop her either, so before long he was standing in our little group and looking at us with genuine interest while we looked at him. Mira was smiling in triumph and showing with her whole being that I was supposed to say something, while I understood that if I opened my mouth I risked losing a friend. Realising that things were not going to plan, Mira left the two of us to sort it out ourselves and ran off for another round of canapés for us all.

“Is she always this energetic?” Phil enquired.

“Right now she’s still being calm, so as not to scare you off me.”

“Ah, so that’s what all this is about!”

“Alas.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, nothing personal, but I very much enjoy my freedom.”

“You know, so do I — which is why I’d advise you to run for it before Mira catches up with you.”

“I don’t frighten that easily.”

“I’m not frightening you, I’m warning you.”

Back then I did not yet know the S-Theory, and could only marvel at how easily Phil and I talked, as if each of us knew in advance what the other was thinking, and at the same time felt no need whatsoever either for such conversation or for each other. It was like talking to yourself, only dressed differently. Later I saw this more than once between two people of the same personality type, but, alas — or rather thank God — you cannot build a relationship with yourself: a relationship needs development as well. And the factor of chaos and development in this case was our Mira.

She flatly refused to accept that I could turn down such a wonderful young man, the embodiment of every dream and ideal. And her sacred mission became to create the greatest possible number of situations and opportunities for us both to change our minds. It led to genuine friendship and respect between us, but to her disappointment it stubbornly went no further.

“What are you dragging your feet for!” Mira raged. “I’m doing so much for you! Trying so hard! Grab him, quick! He’ll get bored of it and then it’s all lost!!!”

“Mira, neither he nor I want this.”

“You two have simply missed the main thing!!!!”

Working on Phil brought no results either.

“And what do I need a relationship for?” he would say plainly. “I can look after myself.”

“But it’s nicer when somebody else does!”

“Oh come on! Depending on somebody else. And then fretting when they do something wrong. Easier to do it myself.”

“Not ‘wrong’ — ‘original and inimitable’!”

“And what do I want originality for? I’d rather have efficiency.”

“Well, look! You won’t even have to get up! I’ll fetch you a fresh glass of beer this instant!”

Mira dashed off to the bar and two minutes later set down in front of Phil, with great ceremony, a cold glass beaded with condensation and an appetisingly wobbling head of foam.

“Tell me, isn’t that nice?”

“No, all the more so as I don’t want any more beer.”

“You pest!!! Just you wait!”

Half in jest, half in earnest, Mira flew at Phil with her little fists; he waved her off like an annoying fly, but he was clearly enjoying it. From then on this became the main theme of our get-togethers: Mira trying to convince Phil that a normal man absolutely needs a relationship, Phil arguing why freedom matters more. On a purely human level I understood Phil, and was even on his side of the barricade. But could that stop Mira?

Sometimes it seemed to me that nothing at all could stop Mira. But there was an upside to that: in this regularly staged show my place was among the audience, which suited me more than well. And the main thing was that the two of them got such a kick out of this drawn-out argument that everything else quietly moved into the background.

“No, Philipp Sergeyevich, with an attitude like that I feel I shall never get you married!” Mira would say, shaking her head stubbornly.

“Phil, run for your life,” I would advise.

“Why on earth are you so set on marrying me off! Somebody at least ought to be happy...”

“Maybe I’m a sadist!”

“I believe you. Tried and tested.”

“How on earth am I to convince you!”

“Maybe don’t try to convince the unconvincible?”

“I must. A normal man is obliged to marry!”

“Then I’m not normal!”

“Show him the advantages in practice...” I blurted out foolishly, and regretted it at once.

“Brilliant! What an experiment!” Mira exclaimed, actually jumping up from her chair in her excitement.

“Sorry...” I whispered to Phil with an utterly tragic expression on my face.

“How long do we need? A month won’t be enough... Let’s live as husband and wife for two months! I’ll look after you, I’ll show you every advantage of married life, and then you can decide for yourself.”

“You two have lost your minds...” I said honestly. A master of idiotic ideas, that’s me. How many times had I sworn off blurting things out without thinking in the company of immature minds.

“You’ll be the first to run away from me!”

“I most certainly will not!”

“Mira, two months of torment!!!”

“Two months of attention and care!”

“Lunatic!”

“Pig-headed!!!”

“Break! I pronounce you husband and wife!” I had to step in.

“By the way — can I count on sex?” Phil smirked.

“Of course! With this sporty, ravishingly muscular and remarkably mentally stable partner right here!” Mira snapped coldly, patting Phil on his right hand.

Jokes aside, soon enough Mira actually did move in with Phil. She did not take many things, reckoning that she could always fetch them from her own place. And so “married life” began.

Phil was extremely surprised, coming home from work, to find a wonderful dinner of baked ribs waiting for him on the table. Mira warned him straight away, though, that this was a one-off in honour of the wedding. Phil had honestly stocked up on beer in order to make a show of frightening Mira with the sight of a “drunken football fan”, but after a dinner like that he decided to postpone the operation to another day. He was not much of a football fan anyway, so the decision came very easily. Instead they streamed some film and genuinely had a lovely time. And in the morning he was woken by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee (“How can you drink that instant muck! It’s sawdust with flavouring!”) and by Mira bouncing around the flat in a long T-shirt, with no make-up and a towel turban on her head.

“Married life: the full version?” Phil could not resist commenting.

“I didn’t come here to seduce you, I came to show you that married life isn’t frightening!”

“Didn’t you? Because it’s turning out rather seductive...”

“Drink your coffee! ...husband dear!”

“Seduce me with coffee!”

The first month of the experiment flew by like a honeymoon. The young experimenters went on working, turned up at our get-togethers exclusively together, and at home bickered sweetly over such trifles as how much oil to pour into the pan when frying potatoes. And while Mira had remembered the aim of the experiment from the start — to show the advantages of family life, and therefore behaved with surprising peaceableness — Phil remembered his own aim of defending his point of view considerably later. And once again he tried to play the drunken supporter: the clichéd, dependable way of frightening immature girlish souls. He ruffled his hair, deliberately spilled a little beer on his T-shirt and made popcorn. Judging by everything he had heard until then, this ought to have infuriated any woman. Alas, Mira was not any woman. Bursting in five minutes after kick-off, she flung a pizza box onto the kitchen table, changed clothes in a flash and stared at Phil in delight.

“Goodness, you’ve even put the right channel on!!! Thank you! I had no time to cook today, but I took care of you: pizza on the table!”

After the final whistle Phil realised, to his own surprise, that he could now even hold forth on football and pass for a fan of long standing for a while. He also realised that the idea of frightening Mira had failed spectacularly before it had even got going.

Having held a council of war with his colleagues, Phil made himself utterly unbearable. For once his socks were scattered around the room and his shoes around the hallway. Phil nagged about the plates being laid out wrong, about the food being portioned wrong... For a long time Mira simply kept quiet, remembering their agreement; then she began trying to spot the pattern and anticipate it, to deprive him of any pretext. That did not always work. So sometimes Mira, barely holding back her tears, would meekly throw the food she had cooked into the bin. Phil somehow knew how to “sting” in the sorest spots. Finally she snapped.

“Listen, I’ve had enough of you, honestly! Do you think I can’t see that you’re picking a fight on purpose?!”

“Just as you’re prettifying things on purpose.”

“I’m showing you how it really is!!”

“Oh, please, don’t try to tell me you could keep this up for years!”

“If you stop behaving like an utter swine, I can!”

“Everybody behaves like an utter swine sooner or later...”

“You do it constantly and deliberately, to win the argument!”

“Are you hinting that I’m cheating?!”

“I’m stating it!”

“As if you weren’t cheating yourself! A normal girl would have whacked me over the head with a frying pan long ago and gone off to her mother’s, and you’re still trying to convince me!”

“Ah, so you need a frying pan over the head?” Mira narrowed her eyes menacingly, reaching for the drawer.

“Don’t! I protest!”

“I’ll give you protest! Found yourself a fool, did you!”

“Hey! Hey! I shall defend myself!”

“You won’t have time!...”

Happily, Mira never did hit Phil with the frying pan. But all that accumulated energy was given an outlet after all, and so successfully that it ended not only in a joint clean-up and a trip to the bins with a set of plates, one bedside cabinet and a couple of sofa cushions, but in something rather more serious. For a while both of them even tried, with completely childlike sincerity, to hide the fact that the experiment had shifted a little and had almost grown into life itself. Their explanations of why it was vitally necessary to extend the experiment by at least another month were especially touching. And then by one more.

In the end they admitted that the experiment had, by all appearances, failed. By then, though, I had other things on my mind than their experiment — I had met my future husband and had no time to follow all their twists and turns.

About a year ago I learned that their experiment had succeeded after all, and that both of them had been right. Family life stuck in Miroslava’s throat, and she declared with pride that from now on she was her own mistress. Philipp, on the contrary, discovered that without Mira the house was not the same, the atmosphere was not the same and the rissoles were not tasty. After a series of rows, soul-searching and conversations with every friend she had, Mira finally moved out and celebrated her personal independence day with sincere relief. Phil withdrew into himself and came out a wild hybrid of a romantic and a chauvinist. Those who did not know him well would never have guessed that his heart was broken.

Against the backdrop of the pandemic they found kindred spirits in each other again and “sat it out” together, almost undercover. They spent nights together, quarrelled, argued, went on demonstrations, drove out into the countryside together and went on holiday separately in the summer. Alas, they have still not brought themselves to return to a normal life together — Mira was categorically against it, since she now needed nobody. And as for their being together temporarily and from time to time, well, nobody is committing anybody to anything, it is simply a way of taking a break.