The Baxter

Baxter (bax'-ter) n. A compromise to "true love." The epitome of "settling." Shorthand for a bachelor with lots of strike outs, who's kind of a loser.

I found out that I am a Baxter. I came across this word yesterday. One of my clients cancelled an appointment with me by not showing up (which unfortunately is a frequent occurance), so to kill time I decided to finger through the Used DVD section of Hollywood Video since they were having a $5 sale on all movies marked $9.99 and under. I came across a movie titled "The Baxter." The Baxter is an indy film written and directed by Michael Showalter, one of members of the comedy trio, Stella. I like Stella. He's in Stella. I read the back of the box. The other two guys from Stella were in it. I had $5. Then, I had a reciept.

Today was my day off since I had to work on Sunday, so after my doctor's appointment, I sat at home, ate a donut, and watched the film. Pretty good. Pretty funny. Pretty sad that I totally relate to the protagonist. The film opens to a scene all people who have seen one romance have seen before. We're treated to seeing a wedding. The preacher says, "Let them speak now or forever hold their peace." Guy crashes through the doors, says I love you to the bride, bride cries, bride hands off flowers to groom, bride and wedding crasher kiss. This movie isn't about them, though. It's about the guy left at the alter.

Granted, I've never gotten close to walking the isle in my 23 years. Hell, I've never really made it to date #1 in a relationship. However, after watching the entirety of the film which includes his past mishaps and being usurped in relationships or just being dumped entirely, I totally relate to the main character.

I am a Baxter. Granted, I'm not clean cut nor I am particularly outwardly dorky looking, but deep down I'm pretty boring. Not "mayo and Wonderbread" boring, but "Spaghetti again?" boring. I'm also too nice. Need a coat? I'll give it to you. Need a glass of water? I'm there. Need someone to vent to? Of course, I'm up for it. Do I regret these things? Do I want no one to ask me for anything again? Of course not. However, I'll never understand why a good chunk of females neglect the guy who waits in a long line outside at a local football game on a cold day to buy you a hot chocolate, to converse with a guy that is kind of a dick but you think you can change.

In high school, I was the big brother. Every date I asked for the dance never said "Yes" they said "I guess so" or the even worse "You'll do." In college, I was the less country-fed, more intelligent, non-Oprah worshiping Dr. Phil. Need to bitch about your boyfriend? Talk to Erik. Need a good cry and vent? Talk to and hug Erik. Need sex advice from a guy despite the fact he is a virgin? Talk to, but don't perform on Erik.
Most of the time, many women call this type of man a safety net. If your current boyfriend turns into an ass, it's alright because you have a safety net to fall back on. Safety net. In case of emergency, break open glass. However, I'm not a safety net. Women date the safety net. I'm a crash pad. Crash pads absorb the impact, cushion the blow, protect and make sure you aren't hurt so you can walk off to try to walk the tightrope again. While it's nice and soft, for some reason no one wants to stick around on the crash pad.
I am pitying myself for being a Baxter? No. I don't mind it too much since I'm flattered so many women in my life had come to me for comfort and advice. It's still frustrating as hell sometimes, though. It'd be nice to play another role once and a while. It'd also be nice to have someone match the exact same enthusiasm as me when I go out with them. I'm a Baxter for now, but not forever. Why? Because I've never been one to "settle" for something I don't want or that will "settle" for me.
I'm either going to a gold medal or nothing at all. Not silver medal. Not bronze. Not even a ribbon that says "Participant." One day, I'll be wearing some gold around my neck while I hug a person who's also wearing gold around her neck. Peace.