The Meantime Girl

I was perusing Facebook, minding my own business, when a friend of mine posted this as a note. The extent to which my world was rocked can not possibly be explained in the menial words of English language. You know why? Because until the moment I was finished reading this Facebook note, I had no idea that I was, in fact, serving as a meantime girl.

She’s the one you call when you’re bored because she makes you laugh. She’s the one you talk to when you’re feeling down because she’s willing to lend an ear and be a friend. She’s not the one you call when you need a date to your company’s Christmas party, or to go dancing with on a Saturday night. She’s the one you spend time with between girlfriends, before you find ‘The One’. You know, the one you keep in the MEANTIME.

She’s not one of the guys, not a tomboy, but you don’t look at her as a “real” woman, either. She’s not bitchy enough, moody enough, or sexy enough to be seen in the light. She’s too laid-back, too easily amused by the same things your male buddies are amused by. She’s too understanding, too comfortable. Doesn’t make you feel nervous or excited the way a ‘real’ woman does. But she’s cool, nice and funny, and attractive enough that when you’re lonely and need intimate female companionship, she’ll do just fine.

You don’t have to wine and dine her because she knows the real you already, and you don’t have any facades to keep up, no pretense to preserve. You’re not trying to get anything of substance out of her. She’s not easy, but you know that she cares about you and is attracted to you. And you know that you don’t have to explain yourself or the situation, that she’ll be able to cope with the fact that this isn’t the beginning of a relationship or that there’s any possiblity that you have any real romantic feelings for her.

It won’t bother her that you’ll get up in the morning, put on your pants, say goodbye, and go on a date with the woman you’ve been mooning over for weeks who finally agreed to go out with you. She’ll settle for a goodbye hug and a promise to call her and tell her how the date went. She’s just so cool.. why can’t all women be like that?!

But deep down, if you really think about it (which you probably don’t.. because to you, the situation between the two of you isn’t important enough to merit any real thought) you know that it’s really not fair.

You know that although she would never say it, it hurts her to know that despite all her good points and all the fun you two have, you don’t think she’s good enough to spend any real time with. Sure, it’smostly her fault, because she doesn’t have to give in to your needs – she could really play hard-to-get. Bitch like the rest of them do, if she really wanted to. But you and she both know that she probably couldn’t pull it off. Maybe she’s too short, or a little overweight, or has big birthmark on her forehead, or works at Taco Bell, or just really not that type.

Whatever the reason, somehow life has given her a lot of really great qualities but has left out the ones that men want (or think they want) in a woman. So she remains forever the funny friend, the steadfast companion, the secret lover, and you go on searching for your goddess who will somehow be everything you ever wanted in a woman.

You’ll joke to her that she should be the best man at your wedding, and she’ll laugh and make a joke about a smelly rental tux.

She doesn’t captivate you with her beauty, or open doors with her smile.

Mainly, she blends in with the crowd. She’s safe. She doesn’t want to be the center of attention and turn the heads of everyone in the room. But she wants to turn someone’s head. She wants to be SPECIAL to someone, too. We all do.

She has feelings. She has heart. In fact, she probably has a bigger heart than any woman you’ve ever known because she’s had a front-row seat to The Mess That Is Your Life, and she likes you anyway.

She obviously sees something worthwhile and redeeming in you because although you’ve given her nothing, absolutely no reason to still be around, she is.


I get it. I know. Not only is this a total sobfest, it’s a post on the Internet that is, as my favorite Nonpareil described, “the female equivalent to the nice-guys-finish-last thing.” But you know what? Something is not automatically less true just because it is cliche (and trite).

Now, just because I’m a sucker for punishment, let’s play the blame game. Who’s more at fault in a meantime girl situation? The guy, unknowingly administering the emotional punishment like a total sadist, or the girl, taking it willingly and therefore left with no room to complain?

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