THE PLAN B

By Byron Flitsch

It was while brushing my teeth when I met my Plan B.

My friend, Caitie, introduced me to the idea of “Plan B” while chatting over a split sugar cookie at a coffee shop we used to meet at.

“So, it’s basically like the back up girl or guy that you wouldn’t mind sharing the rest of your life with in case “the one” doesn’t show up. You could get married or at least live together. You make this deal at a certain age… so you won’t end up alone.” Caitie sips her Earl Grey tea and tilts her head to smile. “It’s a Backup Plan, hence Plan B. Everyone should have one!”

And that’s when I realized: I didn’t have one.

“Then, that means my plan B is Steve.” My friend Lindsay says while painting her toenails in front of a Chelsea Lately marathon on TV. I’m paging through her roommates Details magazine at her Lincoln Park apartment when I ask her if she’s ever thought of a backup. “He’s a cute guy. We used to hang out almost every day and I remember being all: Man if Mr. Right doesn’t show up, he’d be perfect. He knows how to balance his checkbook!”

“But, what’s the difference between Steve and Mr. Right? What makes him OK to settle with, but not be with right now?” I ask her while peering over the magazine.

Lindsay tilts her head and says: “Sex! With him? No way. He’s like a brother.”

As we get older, the blue prints of our love life start to change. In high school, we want to build foundations based on hot make-out sessions in our parents’ borrowed car. In college we start laying the bricks of relationships and easily fall in love with people (too often after downing a bottle of booze). We begin to establish what kind of people we may or may not be attracted to or even what we what kind of person we could really see ourselves with each year we get older—twenties and thirties—our blueprints start adjusting. We thought we wanted one particular layout for life, but discover it didn’t really fit in the space we had open. Sex isn’t as huge as it was when hormones were pulsating and what we end up really hoping for is honest companionship—a true friend.

But what happens when all your great friends (and potential Plan B’s) find their definite Plan A’s?

“Well, it’s official. My last Plan B option (a guy I had met eight years ago in the first college I attended) just sent out an announcement that he and his partner are having a commitment ceremony this summer!” I whine to my friend Jeff while we sit across from each other on our laptops.

“So, get a new one. There’s got to be someone… right?” Jeff says as he stares at his screen.

“Jeff! Plan B’s have to be good plans. Not just random one-night-plans!” I yelp in exasperation.

That night I ordered Thai food while mindlessly watching a Netflix rental. While lifting broccoli with chopsticks, I couldn’t stop thinking about my plan. Not just about love, but life. Ever since I was a kid I remember the layout as if it were an itinerary for success: 1) go to college 2) get full-time job 3) find love 4) stay in love 5) marry love 6) make money 7) kids 8) have a 401k plan. In the last five years, my plan had completely been reedited. I didn’t want a 9—5 job. Kids, whoa, not yet. Relationship? Well, I tried… and it didn’t work.

As I got ready to for bed I couldn’t stop thinking about what was next. I washed my face thinking of any possible person in my life that I could honestly be happy being with—even with out the romance, but everyone was taken. I had never felt so alone in my life.

Then, while brushing my teeth, I stared at myself in the mirror and met my Plan B… me.

All this time I was looking passed the one person that I have to spend the rest of my life with why couldn’t it be me?

It was never in my plan to spend my life alone, but if it comes to it, I have to be prepared. We all have to be prepared. And, really, whom else do I know better than me? It’s the perfect Plan B: Plan Byron.  

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: When Byron Flitsch isn't pondering the art of relationships, buying magazines he'll never get time to read, traveling without maps, and discussing the meaning of life over a cocktail, he is a freelance writer. He's been published in The Advocate, New City, Gay Chicago, and a variety of print/online publications. You can spy on Byron properly at his website: www.byronflitsch.com