The “Back-Up” Boyfriend

Two nights back, I was having some drinks with the girls.

Whilst they chatted on about Summer ‘08 “must-have looks”, and whilst I stared at them inappropriately (I know they’re girls, but there’s nothing wrong with “experimental gazing”), they asked me a surprising question:

“Romi, who’s your back-up?”

“Huh?”

“You know, like your back-up “go-to guy”, if you don’t find the one you’re looking for.”

…

My WHAT!?!?!?!

I was stunned and speechless (for once in my life).

As much as I failed to utter the words, in my mind the response was screaming like the blare of a siren:

-Why would I have a back-up? I’m looking for Mr. Right, not Mr. BLAH!!!

But could it be…is there a chance….that I WON’T find Mr. Right??? (excuse me while I hyper-ventilate)

While the optimist in me refuses to consider failure, let me at least entertain the notion…

…So where do these “back ups” come from? Do all of us ladies have them (and fellas too)? Are they these nervous, sweaty “forever friends” sitting on the sidelines, hoping we’ll set them free from our “No Bang” zone?

If that’s the way it works, then I might even have a few…

…For starters, there was a boy in high school, who happened to fall for my many charms. At the time I wasn’t anything to look at, but he said that he just LOVED my personality. He also said that he could picture the two of us talking for the rest of our lives (I know, “talking”?….nevertheless, I assure you he wasn’t gay).

Unfortunately for him, I was very “non-commital” at age 17, so I reported him to the cops (but wished him all the best). It’s been ten years, but maybe there’s a shrine to me in his mother’s basement…should I call him?

There’s also a guy I used to work with. He was very socially awkward, but loved me because I’m awesome. We lived near the same stretch of town, so we’d ride the train home together. After several weeks of this (and by “this” I mean: carrying the load of conversation whilst he stared at me lovingly), I’d had enough.

So I decided to escape from the situation, by pulling a “Jason Bourne”.

If you haven’t seen the Bourne movies, the “Jason Bourne” is basically the “lost in the crowd” effect. That is, we’d arrive at the bustling station, and as a swarm of a thousand people would head for the doors, I’d suddenly stop mid-stride, and count to 3. After 3 full seconds, he’d be meters and meters ahead of me. After “losing him”, I’d sit in a different train-car, basking in my sneaky success (does that make me a bitch?). I’m sure he still knows where I live; maybe I should open my bedroom window one of these nights, and give him a hearty wave…

I have another back-up, and this one is totally current (like as of last week). I noticed him on a recent grocery store visit. I was wearing my slutty work-out pants, and picking up some cereal (it wasn’t my favourite brand (i.e. Cheerios), but it happened to be on sale for the “drop your baby” price of $1.99…).

The key to this encounter was my slutty work-out pants (slutty work-out pants are the key to a lot of things).

As I exited the store, I heard a not-so-manly voice coming from my right:

“Pull down your pants”, it said. I turned and saw what looked to be a thugged-out 15-year-old, hunkering alone in the dark. I smiled and continued walking, knowing that I’ve “stilllll got it”.

Now you’re probably wondering: “Why isn’t the sideways-baseball-cap wearing thug on your A-List?”. That’s a good question, and the answer is simple: he’s under-age, and an arrest/stint at a women’s correctional facility would get in the way of finding Mr. Right. Hence, I’ll keep him on the back-up list (for now…)

So those are my back-ups, but like I said, I’m not even ready to admit that I should HAVE a back-up. Because of this apparent denial defiance, my answer to my friends went like this:

“This chick don’t play for the silver medal”

My friends swiftly told me to “shove it”, and instructed me to have some shots.

I complied.

Now while the alcohol kept me quiet for the night (though it usually has the opposite effect), I’m sober again, and you heard it here first:

-I’m going for the gold, no matter how many performance-enhancing estrogen pills it takes.

So there.

(the only question now is: could it be that I’M someone’s “back-up”??? Hmm…)