By Kristyn Potter
I went boyfriend shopping at the end of the summer, to celebrate recent accomplishments while subsequently searching for the replacement of my most recent relationship downfall. Now, before you judge this current venture, I’d like to point out that boyfriend shopping is a very reasonable and respectable thing to do in your mid-twenties. You’re young, socially and financially pre-responsible (which is the step before full responsibility), and you’re thriving with positive energy and optimism. The only thing you are missing (well, maybe not you, but the rest of us) is someone to share that positivity with.
Unless you’re me. For the past two years I was in an on again-off again relationship with someone who made Darth Vader look like Sunshine Barbie. And, even that is an understatement. Needless to say, upon graduating college and figuring out what I wanted to spend the rest of my life doing (and who I wanted to share it with) I realized that my current hunk was not my “Mr. Right.”
So, on a Wednesday night, I ventured out on the town with my four friends all in a respectable search for “Mr. Right Now.” The search didn’t take nearly as long as expected, and not in an “I dressed like an approachable slut with the hunger for desire in her eyes” kind of way. I wore a dress, and gladiator sandals. Which doesn’t exactly scream promiscuous.
Within five minutes of walking in the door, a very attractive Nigerian man in his twenties approached my friend Jonathan to “say hi” (I later found this gesture to mean he was trying to get a chance to get my name and my phone number). I wasn’t as receptive to this gesture as you would think. Partly because my notion of boyfriend shopping wasn’t as desperate as you’d expect. In fact, I was more oblivious to the college guys trying to get a few words in than normal.
The rest of the night, I juggled conversation with the Nigerian guy (a second year master’s student with plans of attending medical school in the fall) and a first year MBA student who was interested in business law. They were both very aware of the fact that I was talking to the other, flirting with the other, and dancing with the other however, they made little to no attempt to remove themselves from the situation. I went home alone. Which, might I add, is a consequence of ‘boyfriend shopping’ when you are neither sincere in your desire nor desperate.
The next day I was the recipient of two text messages, inviting me on a date. Boyfriend shopping seemed to have done its job. And well, might I add. The only problem is after going on a date with the Master’s student, I couldn’t decide if I still wanted the boyfriend that I so desired.
Three weeks later, and I am finding myself with the ever-pressing, forthcoming “talk” with said guy. The elusive “where we are and where we are going talk”. You know, the one you have before you embark on the somewhat daunting task of having a boyfriend.