i thought u guys wld like this....i got it from a ladies blog...am sure it wld apply to u one way or the other
The Back-up Boyfriend
A dear, dear friend intimated to me that she was having marital difficulties. Feeling somewhat put-upon, but putting down my gin and tonic just the same to convey interest, I cooed, “Darling, but that’s horrible. Tell me all about it.”
“Oh, I don’t know…it’s the little things, really. He didn’t notice how glowing I was after my last facial. He didn’t compliment me on the menu that Elena served at our last dinner party, and, well, in the bedroom, he…he…well, lets just say he hasn’t been to the wine cellar in quite some time. My dear, I can’t recall the last time he brought me a trinket from Tiffany’s. It used to be trips to the wine cellar and diamond baubles day in and day out—how I long for those days. Perhaps he’s losing interest,” she said sadly.
“Perhaps he is unaware of your distress, my dear,” I said briskly. “Botox does muddy the ‘guess how I’m feeling today,’ waters, hmmm?”
“I suppose,” she mused, settling her face into what I suspect was a look of concentration. “I know,” she said excitedly, her eyes sparkling just a tiny bit under her unmoving brows, “I’ll take a lover!”
“What a very sensible idea,” I said. “Who shall it be? Which of the back-ups will you move into rotation? Oh, do tell.”
“Back-ups?” she said. “Whatever are you talking about? Why, I don’t know what you mean.”
That’s when I let her in on my little secret—the secret of my lucrative yet distant marriage to Mr. _________.
“Listen and learn, darling. A smart woman always has a back-up boyfriend, possibly more than one. Back-up boyfriends, or BUBs, as I refer to them are different than real boyfriends, and in many ways, superior. The BUB is what the name implies—an extra, should something run amuck in the primary relationship. They are a safety net when things are tumultuous with the primary object of affection. The BUB is there, in theory, to embrace when and if you are suddenly without a man. He enables you to transcend that tiresome period of loneliness and uncertainty. There is comfort in his designation as BU. When embroiled in a vicious argument with the primary, you can remember that you have options; in fact, several, and therefore needn’t grovel or capitulate in any way to unreasonable demands.”
“That sounds fabulous, but a bit complicated. Tell me more.” She leaned in to listen intently.
“The BU relationship is easy on the psyche,” I continued. “There is no real emotional investment—it is merely diversion. One needn’t worry about maintaining his interest; there’s always another one to be had.” Here she cut in, her fluttering hands conveying the excitement her face could not.
“Tell me, how do I get one? I must know!”
“Patience, my dear, I will tell all. It’s remarkable, really, how little it takes to recruit a back-up. The touch to arm or shoulder, the lean-in-and-laugh, the cutting of the eyes during a compliment, indeed, the mere presentation of warmth and openness immediately bring most men into the green room—so to speak. Once they are welcomed onto the stage, leaning across the desk to breathlessly answer a personal question, they accept the role readily, eager for the party afterwards at the chic supper club.”
“That’s all there is to it? Why has no one told me this before? It sounds so simple—but then, men are simple creatures, really. What sort of man do you look for?” she asked.
“I have only a few requirements for the BUB. He must be completely enchanted and taken by surprise by my warmth. He will likely be confused and uncertain—“Are we friends, or does she want…more?” The uncertain man is so charming, so devoted. Within his mind, he is in a constant state of turmoil and excitement. Waiting for confirmation of his suspicions, he makes himself available for late night phone conversation, dinners and lunches, anytime I am need of affirmation or a confidante. Solicitous of my needs at all times, his behavior is a return to chivalry, so often lacking in modern relationships. The graciously held door, the offered jacket, the bouquet of flowers hidden bashfully behind the back—these are the gifts of the BUB.”
“That sounds like heaven,” she said, sighing. “But where to find a proper man? Must he be unattached?”
“Frankly, I prefer my BUBs to be married to another. There is less opportunity for heartache, in my opinion. A gentle reminder wifey often brings to heel an overzealous BUB. The relationship is structured, even orchestrated. It is a civilized association, and as such, follows rules which must be strictly maintained. These rules may be unspoken, but I prefer to list them, in the clear and sober light of day. The BUB association has its bounds, and the BU must remain within these bounds to remain within my favor.”
“Darling, you are absolutely brilliant! I shall go about looking for a back-up immediately. And who knows, maybe one day, he and I…” she tightened her lips in the merest imitation of a satisfied smile.
“Oh no, Darling, you misunderstand me. Though the role seems to suggest that in time, and under the proper circumstances, the BU may become the primary, nothing is farther from the truth. The BU is like your second string jewelry, your second favorite shade of eye makeup—you would wear it in a pinch, but it would never be your first choice.” I took a deep draught from the g&t in my hand, giving her a wink.
She left the table after a prolonged and significant look, which I took to mean that my advice had, in a small but substantial way, altered her life for the good. I felt a warm glow of altruism but, remembering the Botox, decided it was just the gin.