Asya was an extraordinarily ethereal woman; at the sight of her, words like fragility, modesty, refinement, femininity, weakness and ideal came to mind. Her porcelain skin, framed by soft fair hair, set off pale eyes fixed on some beautiful world where everyone was a friend and there was neither pain nor hurt nor evil. The mere contact of such a creature with our sinful world seemed an unimaginable sacrilege, let alone the fact that here she had to work and to survive, and that we were supposed to find her a partner who, to be in the best possible harmony with her, had to be reasonably down-to-earth, pushy and dominant. And yet Asya's almost perfect world could not become perfect without a male presence in it, and so she stoically registered on dating sites, ours among them.
Background: The stories are published from the feedback we received and with our clients’ consent. The names have been deliberately changed. At the end you will find a counsellor’s commentary analysing the relationship.
Skip to the counsellor’s commentaryShe went to her first date with the candidate we had proposed with a shudder, like a beauty chosen as the sacrifice for a wicked dragon. From our conversation, with its description of a strong man whom no trouble can touch, all she had taken away was that this was definitely not going to be a sorrowful prince with the sad eyes of a St Bernard and the manners of the court of King Louis, as she had pictured him. And although our candidate behaved perfectly correctly, she came home deep in thought: how could such a thing be "destined" for her?
At home Kostik was waiting for her; he had promised to fix her computer, which once again refused to obey her. Seeing her state and reading it correctly, Kostik sighed and brought out the lemon sorbet he had laid in especially for such an outcome. Why on earth is Kostik not dominant and pushy, thought Asya, looking tenderly at her neighbour, one could have married him...
The second candidate we proposed was more striking and more dominant. He clearly liked Asya, the way a seasoned hunter likes a fragile, big-eyed gazelle that freezes and trembles at the mere sight of him. Asya liked him too: his decisiveness and the tremor he stirred in her. She felt an urge to tease him, to show the full force of her sexuality and her feminine power. She suddenly wanted to walk along the edge, to turn into a femme fatale... But was that how her beloved "Turgenev maidens" behaved? Was that what her mother had taught her as a child?
She felt it becoming hard to breathe, the blood pounding in her temples and everything slowly going dark before her eyes. Apologising incoherently, she flew out from the table onto the porch, into the fresh air, sat down on a step and clutched the banister rail convulsively. Then, half senseless, she texted Kostik to come and collect her, and immediately hid the phone: her escort had stepped out onto the porch.
— "What, giving me the brush-off already?" he asked in a bored voice.
— "Goodness, no!" Asya stammered. "I just came over faint, the air in there is stuffy... I think..."
— "It is at that, I'll have a word with the manager," her escort agreed grimly. "They charge a price like that and then skimp on the ventilation! I'll drive you home!"
— "Don't!" Asya shouted, horrified that she had already called Kostik and that he would arrive at any moment. "I... I'd be better off in the fresh air... I'll walk... Walking is good for you!"
— "You won't get far in that state!" her escort snorted. "Sit here, I'll settle the bill!"
The moment he disappeared into the restaurant Asya leapt up as if stung, and immediately sat back down. She felt like a rabbit frozen in front of a boa constrictor, unable to take a single step to save itself. She did not even know how long she had sat on the porch, clinging to the banister rail. Kostik and Asya's escort appeared at the same moment. Kostik watched calmly as some stranger in an obviously expensive jacket lifted the stiffened Asya from the porch, took her by the elbow and led her to a gleaming Tesla. Asya let herself be led obediently to the car and seated, staring at the stranger with all her eyes. The doors slammed. The headlights came on. Kostik sighed and pulled out of the parking space in his unglamorous Opel, heading for home.
The emotional whirlwind in Asya's head went on spinning the whole way home. Her escort was saying something and she even made agreeable noises, but she was not really following what it was about. Only the phrase "Off you go; if you need anything, call and I'll come round" made her get up obediently, walk to the door, mechanically call the lift and all but tumble into her flat. She did not quite register the moment when Kostik appeared beside her with a mug of fragrant blackcurrant tea, and only as she sipped it in small mouthfuls did she slowly begin to come back to herself.
The two dates had knocked her completely off her usual track, and the two dragons to whom she had almost handed herself over of her own free will still made her heart stop. If only they had been like Kostik... Asya took a closer look at Kostik. Tall and broad-shouldered, calm and dependable. Not long ago he had grown a beard for some reason, but he was still the same harmless, good-natured man. He looked as if he would not hurt a fly, yet he could stand his ground to the last if he had to. Somehow he was always there, always knew how to support Asya, how to cheer her up, and at the same time he managed to step aside, sensitively and tactfully, when she needed time alone with herself. Very clever, measured, even-tempered and perceptive. How had she not noticed this before? And most importantly, if you think about it, he had been beside her for a long time, patiently waiting while she ran herself ragged on dates and dating sites.
— "Kostik, we are together, aren't we?..." Asya asked suddenly.
— "Theoretically, no..." said Kostik in surprise.
— "But in practice you almost live at my place..." Asya said modestly, revelling in her rebellion against the way she usually behaved. "And I like it..."
Asya's next big problem was leaving our club. To do that she had to admit that she, wicked creature that she was, had found herself a husband without us, and admitting it took the fragile, refined Asya some time and a good deal of support from Kostik. It was a very long and emotional monologue, but Asya managed it, and then, in her joy, allowed us to publish this story with the names changed.
And although this is not a story of our success, I still count it as a success. Asya realised that her love had been beside her all along, found the courage to admit it to herself and to him, and found her happiness.
Counsellor’s commentary
The foundation of the epileptoid personality type, which is what Asya is, is an inner prohibition on any direct bid for attention — attention she nevertheless very much wants to receive. To get it, people of this type invent roles and circumstances for themselves, which does a great deal for their imagination and ends up with them inventing a beautiful inner world as well, one they can disappear into completely. It may find expression in art, in books, in religion, sometimes even in science, which epileptoid people use to make the world around them lovelier too, closer to their inner one.
Kostya is an example of the autistic personality type. Such people are more often observers of life, who miss no details, no small things and no facts, even if they cannot always build a whole system out of them. Autistic people tend to gestalt their surroundings and the people close to them, and they are also wonderful empaths who see far more than others do. They know how to be there, to create comfort and cosiness, and to take quiet care of every small thing that matters.
Kostik, better than anyone else, can help Asya to make her surroundings beautiful, so that they come to resemble her ideal. At the same time, he is unlikely to be the leading partner that epileptoid women usually need in order to open up fully. What he will give her instead is that unobtrusive attention, and he will make sure she is cared for. Asya, in turn, will add colour to his world and give it wholeness and beauty.
He is able to look after her and care for her, he does not get in the way when she goes deep inside herself, and yet he is always there. These are typically professorial households: she is writing her dissertation, he is writing his. He knows a great deal; she has a command of art and literature. He is unlikely to argue with her point of view.
An epileptoid woman is frightened by any man, and the autistic man, by virtue of his gentleness, does not frighten her. For an epileptoid woman any man is first and foremost an aggressor who intrudes into her fine, vulnerable world and is a source of pain and discomfort. As a rule, epileptoid women both fear this and strive towards it. In Asya's case there is too strong a reaction to aggression from outside. She could have worked through it and come into balance, but she found her happiness even so.
The autistic man does not press her and does not intrude; he is always there and waits for the moment when he can calmly say what needs to be done. And she submits to him. He is not servile, but he takes care of her. Both are very domestic; everyday life becomes comfortable and stops being a burden.
Both personality types are passive. A relationship like this is called a partnership marriage of the female type. Both will build their shared little nest and will not particularly need anyone else. It will be an elevated relationship in which no one gets in anyone's way, everything can always be talked through, and the rest of the world recedes into the background.
And to find out about yourself...
And you can find out about yourself, your personality type and the partner who suits you in the Dating Club, where counsellors do the matching.
