The Back Up Lover

Upon reading an article in PSYCHOLOGY TODAY, I learned about this phenomenon called The Back Up Lover. Apparently, even those in "happily ever after" relationships have a Plan B. So the idea of mongony just went out the window, now the issues that make me commitmaphobic and insanely afraid of letting a man into my life, now have scientific backing. I now know for certain that the idea of true partnership could be a lie, because we as human beings have a stronger desire to be with someone rather than the one.

Therefore my question, is the idea of having a blissful, unadultrious marriage becoming obsolete?

Perhaps.

But there could be a bigger problem.

After long deliberation on this issue, I began to have a small panic attack. The trouble with this stunning figure is not that my issues could become worst (even with therapy), but the fact that I don't have a Plan A, B or C.

Sigh.

Does this suggest that I can not even find someone to choose me for third place? I mean LA isn't known for it's fabulous dating scene, and quite frankly I don't think I know many around here that are in even mildly enjoyable relationships.

As a matter of fact, most of my post 30 girlfriends are learning that prefering the friends with benefits is actually more of a curse than a blessing, and what's the point of being bond by a man who wants to only be with you. You get more headaches and less sex. And when it comes down to it, when we go after a man for a sex only alliance makes the male species run. Or worst, they fall in love.

And once they are in love, what next? A fruitful life of him dipping his pen in the company ink, or choosing the girls next door over pleasing the woman you say you love. I mean seriously, are we beginning to pick our careers over our hubbies because we’re sick and tired of them constantly asking us to turn the other cheek. I mean, I do wholeheartedly believe that if my guy gets his stinger wet from the wrong pool… I may as well, hit it with the gardener. Or honestly, any dude with better abs will do.

The point here being, cheating is a part of life. Some people do it physically, some emotionally, and others it will only be a series of dirty thoughts of the sexy secretary or the hottie at the gym with the nice guns! But everyone will deal it at some point, whether or not you find out it, will determine how bad the pain feels. It's dreadfully sad, and equally, disappointing, but there is no Hollywood ending here.

THE BIG DILEMMA

When dating, there are somethings that you can learn to love about a person and others, well, you just can't accept.

Imagine now, the perfect man. One who is completely giving, in every way... he gives you presents, little kisses in public, and stares at you when you're across the room. When you've had a really bad day at work, he holds you all night and doesn't complain once. Compliments are plentiful, he opens doors, walks on the traffic side of the street, goes for long walks on the beach, and gazes into your big needy eyes. All the things that would make any single girl throw up in her mouth a little.

Now, finally, you and your future husband are about to close the deal for the first time ever. You arrive at his house. There is champagne, rose petals, candles and dim music.

He romances you, pays very close attention to your every inch of your body. Making you comfortable in his arms. Things start to heat up, it is passionate, hot, sexy, riping each others clothes off!

Then, it happens.

The last piece of clothing comes off of him, his boxers. For the first time you feel it. His long, hard, love muscle, then suddenly, the little wet spot in your panties dries up, and it's over.

OH MY GOSH, IT'S TOO BIG. I can't put that inside of me. Panic. It won't even fit in your mouth, let alone any other parts of you body. It may even make my tiny little spleen burst into millions of pieces when it bangs into me repeatedly.

This is a problem.

Now, what do you when the perfect man's joy stick is too big.

Unfortunately, there is not much you can do. They say a woman can't change a man, and that is definitely one thing that I am 100% certain that no woman in the world has the power to change.

Most men want to have the biggest penis in the gym showers, but it's sad when he's perfect EXCEPT his oversized knob.

But the biggest question posed here is this, are there any perfect men in the world, or is the Universe playing some sort of horrible joke on us. I mean, as if making us the more normal of the sexes wasn't bad enough, but to give me a perfect man with an over sized cock, is just plain cruel!

IS HONESTY REALLY THE BEST POLICY?

There are times when I will admit, I want to be lied to.

1) All the girls are out, heading into Geisha House for some sushi. Following our raw fish treats, we plan to hit up Le Deux. I'm wearing new Joe's that I picked up at Bloomie's just for tonight, and I ask "do you like my new jeans?" The answer is ALWAYS yes, they're rad. Especially, when there's nothing that one can do about it!

2) I am obsessively texting my ex-boyfriend while completely drunk. No, I am not crazy, is the answer. I am a smart girl, I know you are merely being a good friend by not calling me an insane bitch.

3) I'm going through a tough break-up, therefore, on the Hagen Doz diet, I am PMSing, and about to head to Cabo for a wedding. Do not tell me I look fat. When I ask, I am looking for someone to lie to me... so do it!

Ok, now that I'm sure you get the very clear picture about when lying is actually not a bad idea. I would like to give everyone a chance to get a good feel for one more lie that is actually not a bad to tell.

Saturday night, I'm heading down south to Playa for a drunken night with my sidekick, Writer Chick (actually I am more of the side kick but it is my story). I want tequila shots, and hot boys drooling over my new jeans (they really are hot btw, not the someone has to lie to you hot). I have been working my ass out, and therefore, this skinny bitch is wearing a shirt that the roomie, Bossman, says is "hot," by the way I don't think he's EVER said those words to me before, so I know tonight is special. We look hot, and are both desperate for a piece of ass.

When we finally arrive, there is a room full of two types of men, first, sexy 30 somethings that are looking for a little action (silent YAY), and second, the others are still nursing. So of course, me and Writer Chick mark our territory at the bar, when a nice guy approaches. There's small talk and laughter, until I turn around to find that Writer Chick is MIA, having disappeared into the sea of little boys, I was encouraging her to stay away from. Then I turn around to find her talking to, perhaps, the sexiest two hunks in the bar.

Score. It's been a while since my undersexed body has felt a man touch the inside of my panties, so I'm pretty stoked about her find in the corner of the bar.

We chat with boys, flirt, drink more beverages. Then, I learn that my new friend, The Hockey Player, and I actually share mutual friends. Loads of them actually, to the point where I couldn't believe I had never met this guy before. But who knows I was drunk, from tequila, so there's a chance I did know him but just didn't remember.

Then, the night was about to end. And hind sight is 20/20, so I know I made a mistake when I offered up my digits to the man who clearly wasn't looking for them.

Are you ready for this?

He said to me "No, I don't want your number, I won't ever call."

Ugh. That sucks, but at least the man's honest.

But here is where it gets ugly. He later decided that since his friend wanted to get busy with mine, that he may as well take me home too.

There will be no boots knocking this night, due to his colossal mistake. Even his friend will wake up with a hang over and blue balls, but I'm quite happy that they will both pay honestly. It's the idea of the team. When one team member breaks the 24 hour rule and drinks the day before a game, the whole team will run!

So what, I may have called him a few ugly names before it was over. Loser, Fuck Off, I hate you (maybe), the others who knows.

But what can I say, his begging annoyed me, and honestly was a bit pathetic after he put all the cards on the table. Hey, I'm a poker player, I know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. Apparently he didn't.

But for me the Patron made me do it! I am sorry for the name calling, Hockey Player, but next time, just take the number. No harm, no foul.