I’m a pretty lucky guy. Everyone I meet, young or old, loves me. I manage to juggle charming, humorous, empathetic, silly, and serious in such a way that I’m hard not to like. I’m oh so modest, as well. Most of the women in my life, whether young or elderly, single or married, taken or looking, call me their second boyfriend/fiancé/husband/soulmate. It’s a really nice feeling.
The ladies at work call me Husband #2. I help them move furniture around, play a role in most of their work-related stories, and even go buy groceries for them on occasion. My female friends call me some variation of Soulmate, Boyfriend, Husband, or Fiancé #2. I’m at their beck and call day or night, rain or shine. I get the warm cozies just thinking about it. I’m trusted above almost all, and they each know that I can be depended upon to help them out no matter what. I think it says a lot about my character.
Unfortunately, being everyone’s #2 means that I am no one’s #1. JFK once said that “once you say you’re going to settle for second, that’s what happens to you in life.” I can’t help but feel like I’ve been settling for second place these last few years.
Sure, romantic relationships come to mind as the best–and most easily described– example of this, but I feel like I’ve been settling for second place in nearly all aspects of my life. As a type A, academically gifted, former public school and university badass who wouldn’t settle for anything less than top 10%, A+, 4.0 GPA; I can’t help but feel, well, like the current me comes in 2nd place to the old me. That really isn’t a good feeling.
The worst part? I don’t even know where to go from here. This day has turned in to a “MMMMMARRAAAAHHH” type of day. [MMMMMARRAAAHHH taken from Wil Wheaton, of course. Must give credit where credit is due.]