Love of My Life - Runner Up

I came across a blog the other day - thanks to one of my readers - and it's definitely lit something inside of me. 

The topic is having a "Backup-Husband"

Now let me clarify. This is not in the if my marriage fails I have someone to fall back on and jump right into another relationship. This is more in the sense that "I become an old spinster and to make sure I don't die alone" backup spouse.

Maybe because I'm 1 1/2 hears from being thirty and recently finding myself single (again). 

Maybe because more and more of my friends are getting married and having babies (in many cases baby #2 and #3). 

But the idea of never meeting "the one" (or worse having let "the one" get away) and needing/wanting a "back up" scares me.

Not so much I lose sleep at night. Or am going to be calling my ex-boyfriends and single guy friends asking them to be my backup husband. (Although, yes, I have thought about and know who I'd ask if I ever find myself in need of back up sperm...but that's a different blog).

Something about having a back up husband just makes me feel worse (about myself) than thinking I'll never meet "Mr Right". I want to spend my life with my best friend but I don't want that best friend to be coerced into being with me.

I don't think I would ever want to be someones back up any more than ask someone to be mine. I'd feel second hand. Like your permanent doormat. If we don't want to be together now why would we want to be together in ten or twenty years?

However, my best friend (of about 20 years) and I have had a plan for years that when we're old and tired of our husbands we'll "suddenly become widowed" (*wink wink*) and then move in together to raise pug dogs. 

Now that's my idea of a "backup spouse"!!

But I'd like to know what other people think of this idea. Am I alone in feeling that I'd be settling for 2nd best (or that I'd be someones 2nd best).

27 is not 30

So last weekend I'm standing at the checkout counter at WinCo, watching the total go up and up, bagging our own groceries and wondering how three people can eat so much. In amongst our (obvious) carb-addiction was a bottle of Merlot. It was scanned as innocently as a bottle of Yoo-Hoo and sent down the conveyor belt. The woman behind the counter didn't bat an eyelash. No "ums" followed politely by asking for my identification. Not even a glimmer of glancing up to make a quick judgment on the age of the purchaser (Mom was returning the extra cart so there was no assumption is belonged to her - which it did).

So I wondered: Do I look 35?

Correct me if I'm wrong but Federal Law requires that if you look under 35 plan to be carded.

It has been years since I was first legally allowed to purchase alcohol and I've always been mistaken for being older, but do I look that old?

Maybe my hypersensitivity was induced by the fact that the manicurist the day before thought I was my sister's mother. Yes, we're far apart in age but not that far apart.

Anyway I digress.

So the woman finishes scanning my groceries and we pay (Mom has joined me at this point).  As we get into the car and drive away the following conversation takes place:

Morgan: "Be honest. Do I look old?"(Yes, I realize this is a narcissistic question)  

Mom:"What are you talking about? Oh, did you not get carded?"

Morgan: "No. And since the law says to card if you look under 30 or 35 or whatever...I just want to know do I look old for my age?"

Mom: "No, I don't think you look thirty."

Morgan:*Long pause* "I"M NOT THIRTY!"

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To my 30-something friends and readers: There is nothing wrong with being thirty. But when you ask if you look older than your age and your sweet mother makes a crack about you not looking over said mile-stone...it's something to get slightly defensive over.

*     *     *

Eventually the freak-out passed.

I stopped worrying that I was dressing older than my age (although FYI fashion designers and distributors need to realize that just because a girl is a plus size doesn't mean she's going to want to wear a muumuu that makes her look like she's a circus tent).

I stopped worrying that I was prematurely wrinkling or that frown lines were developing.

I stopped worrying that I looked old enough to have a nineteen-year-old daughter.

I stopped worrying because I realized this is what they want..."they" being society that floods our media with anti-wrinkle creams, grey covering hair dye, "How to Lose 10-years" articles and makeup tips.

I refuse to be one of those women who lie about their age. I still have three years left of my 20s and plans to embrace every experience that comes with it.

27 is not 30 but when 30 comes knocking on my door I plan to welcome it with open arms.