Tara Tainton

It occurred to me yesterday that I may (very likely will) soon find myself in the most unique living situation I've ever been in. Then again, I've had to lay my head down in some strange locations, at strangers' homes, etc. while traveling, but I have yet to openly choose to commit to strange living arrangements for an extended time.

Now, that I'm settled a bit again, and money can be spent on things like rent payments, I'm about to obtain accommodations with three roommates: my lover, my brother, and a 19-year-old boy (or are they men at that age?) I hardly know and who's only recently mustered up the courage to look me in the eye and say something to me when in my presence.

I'm quite connected with my lover, of course, and very close with my brother. The three of us form this tightly knit group that no one can penetrate. Yet, someone new will soon be sitting on the outskirts of our familial clique, and we'll be doing our best to invite him in.

I'm looking forward to it and approaching it like any new challenge or "test" in life. For it's definitely a test for an introvert and sometimes anti-social gal like me. Sometimes, I'm the only one I can communicate with clearly, and unless I've had sufficient alone time, I just don't want to deal with other people. I'm a writer; I like to be alone with my thoughts.

I'm much more adaptable now since traveling to the southern hemisphere on a solo, spontaneously driven tour. And I've developed ways of getting my alone time despite non supportive conditions. Yet, it just occurred to me that introducing a stranger into the living arrangements may really spoil all my fun.

Why? I'm goofy as hell, and most of the time people in this world don't know how to even take that. I like to sing out loud and usually I make up the songs and syllables. I like to make up my own words. I'll be sarcastic or facetious at every opportunity. I'll talk about my own sex life or urges or opinions at the drop of a hat. Thankfully, those traits are also applicable to the first two roommates in the above list. That's why we get along so well. In fact, one of us may randomly start up a made up song to scare away the silence while a second picks up the tune and the third finishes up the serenade, much to the delight of each of us. Yes, we're unique.

But here's the clincher. Though I was shy of mind for a great deal of my maturing life, I'm not shy of body. I like to run around in my underwear. There, I've admitted it. I leave the bathroom door open when I'm in there, or at least ajar. I don't see a problem with being in a bra and knickers around my brother (and my lover certainly doesn't mind), because more skin is covered than when I wear a bathing suit in public. Why is lingerie thought to be more risque because of lace, flashy colors, or being intended to be worn under clothing rather than visible to the public? And then, there is the act of going braless. It's not recommended for a naturally well endowed gal like me; those things can take on a life of their own if not properly caged. But there are moments between showering and dressing or getting out of bed and dressing, etc. when I'm letting the tigers free for a bit. And it's not like they're itty bitty titties that only rear up when the weather's cold. Instead, mine are out there screaming their presence to all who will take a listen.

Enter young Mr. S, the new roommate. Of course, my inner and socially driven response to the upcoming situation is to hide all of my natural tendencies, to become the gal that dresses formally as soon as she wakes and before the world sees her, to watch my tongue, and to control my childishness so as not to disrupt the rather mundane existence of another. I mean, I should do everything to ensure my presence doesn't cause discomfort for someone else, right? I should change myself and adjust to others? I should compromise who I am to further allow others to never budge from being themselves of living in their ideal environment?

Well, that line of thought didn't last very long. The 30-year-old in me raised up her head and voiced her opinion. I'm too old for that. Too old to change for the comfort of others, too old to believe it's my social responsibility to tame my own soul and be a pleaser. I spent 18 years of my life absorbing what my parents taught me was right and good, five gathering my own knowledge from everywhere possible, two burying that knowledge only for it to end up festering, swelling up, and eventually exploding, two more years unlocking all my inner resources, recesses, and letting myself go free, and the last three years have been spent not only convincing myself that it's okay to be me, and my integrity and beliefs shouldn't be compromised for anything, but actually living according to that belief in every waking moment.

That brings us to 2005. Mr. S is going to be my sociological experiment. After all, what else are the youngest minds useful for? They haven't formed their own opinions about the world yet (though they think they have), and this is my opportunity to do some molding. Meanwhile, I'm exercising my right to be free in every respect I choose, to be completely myself, and wear that personality proudly.

Poor Mr. S doesn't know what he's in for. The tigers are on the loose, and they're feelin' kinda frisky...

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3.23 Copyright (C) 2007 Alain Georgette / Copyright (C) 2006 Frantisek Hliva. All rights reserved."