While everyone is baking bread during this snowstorm, my husband has gotten enthralled in Scandal, the show. We are six seasons in, and I can’t help but squirm in my seat. But the show has got me thinking about an interesting phenomenon. One that has somehow been swept under the rug. Ending up with your number two.
Let’s take Olivia Pope, for example. She has two powerful men in her life (three if you count her father): the president, Fitz, and the right-hand man to B6-13 and later head of said group, Jake. She loves Fitz and is her number one choice, but she can’t have him because A. He’s married and B. He’s the president of the United States, and C. She works for him. Maybe under different circumstances, they could be together if Olivia had any interest in less powerful men, but I digress.
Eventually, Olivia is forced to face the fact that she can not be with Fitz, so she falls back on the only other man she is entertaining, Jake. Jake, whose mission was to embed himself in Olivia’s life thanks to her father, but every time there is a crisis in her life when she can not go to Fitz (which is often), she runs to Jake. And Jake, of course, is there waiting.
That got my husband and me talking about holding space for your number one. Some of us think we’re the exception and that we don’t play this game. But how often have we entertained in any capacity, I repeat, IN ANY CAPACITY, someone because number one hasn’t come along, or because number one is not available at the moment, or because it’s fun having someone come along for the ride. There are several reasons we drag number two along, sometimes a little too far, but the truth is, we do it because number two is just as good. I mean, it’s an ugly truth, but the truth nonetheless.
Number two is fun and always there. You can count on number two. He might not be your number one, shoot, you might not be his number one, or you might, but the key thing about number two is he/she helps you forget about number one, at least for a while. If you followed that, great.
I guess what I’m saying is, there’s some guilt about carrying along a placeholder, but that’s life. We are all trying to figure it out. Some of us choose to wait for the one quietly, patiently, and faithfully, while others take a more lively approach. I know I did. I didn’t have a placeholder perse because I didn’t believe in love until I met my husband. He was the exception. Before him, “the one” wasn’t even on the radar for me, so I had fun and lived my life, and maybe there were possibilities along the way, but they fell short. They always fall short when they’re not the one.
Live and love and let live, let love.
Love you, bye.
