We all have love; we all express it in our own way. But imagine for a moment God as an accountant. Imagine that all God had ever intended, from the big bang to now, was to keep a register. A plain record of our own heart felt emotion.

This Godly document, a secondary testament, is a record of our own interaction with each other. The creation, a derivative previous to Genesis, was the beginning of a universe which included our own planet. The Bible, a preliminary text to our own banter. The Earth, oil funnel that it has become, was the beginning of a set scene.  The purpose being solely our pride in each other’s company. The happy carnage. A mere orgy of complimentary feeling. By accident, it is the only worship we have.

If this spreadsheet could only record our interactions with each other, it would only record the challenging moments. The moments we felt threatened, or panicked. It would ignore the mindless hellos, the pleasantries and platitudes. The focus would be on the reactions. The times in our life when we found ourselves unprepared. Every weapon stripped from us and every home comfort removed. If our closest friends had vanished in the course of a reckless evening, how would you remain? When all self confidence becomes an unfounded myth, who are you? What are you left with, and most importantly, how do you behave?

There is no permanent answer to such a record. You cannot guarantee that you will be inexhaustibly charming and ultimately triumphant. You are who you are, your weaknesses are part of that individual charm. But how will you score in a deified collection of data? With no alcohol and no cajoling, what would your percentage of adventure be?

There is no good or bad in this question. Certainly it does not involve fundamentalism or atheism. Even the unluckiest bastard in the smallest of towns has felt, in one slim chance, the opportunity to surprise themselves. A period of minutes where they can find pleasure and share it with another person.

Such avenues frighten the most perseverant. Beside the drunken dickheads and the hungry whores, even the most genuine has felt that rush. An incident that too often does not occur, when time allows two personalities to collide. When a dance floor provides an avenue. On a path when an apposite weakness provided an advantage, how did you react? Did you capitalise? Did the sheer volume of the unknown overwhelm you? Or did you leap with a smile on your face, regardless of success or failure, knowing a good time waited on the other side?

Regardless of how it lasted, what would you score? Should the pearly gates be barred by a list of your own enterprise, if it came down to being sociable and outgoing, ask yourself; what would be your grade?