Shiny Chandravel, Assistant Opinions Editor
Van Gogh had the French night skyline. Beethoven had a scandalous love affair. Michelangelo had Italian poetry. Yet none can compare to the constancy of my greatest muse, the inspiration of my best work — my friend’s mediocre boyfriend.
Everyone’s got one — a friend whose boyfriend can find a new way to unimpress you every day. His interests are lackluster. He’s unable to hold a conversation unless your friend is holding his hand. He’s incapable of putting his plate back in the sink. And his idea of a date is sitting in his car and getting your friend the tacky pre-arranged flowers from the nearest gas station.
But worst of all, as much as you grate your teeth when he’s around, your friend will be three months into the relationship and already planning wedding centerpieces. And as long as they are together, you remain a victim to hearing about it.
Our culture encourages romantic relationships as the pinnacle of love. For many, pressures from family, community, friends or even social media make college out to be a ticking timer for students to find their future partner. However, expectations often don’t reflect reality.
Only 28% of married graduates attended the same college as their spouse, according to USA Today. Yet because of that pressure to be part of that 28%, people settle.
Before long, you’re left watching your friend believe that their soulmate is the guy they met at a frat party freshman year.
But when I’ve found myself in these situations, the mediocre boyfriend emerges as surprisingly useful — a subtle checklist of the kind of person I want to be.
He doesn’t know your coffee order? I have it memorized.
He doesn’t remember your birthday? I’ve already planned the party.
He leaves your messages on read? We’ll call for hours.
It’s more than just the small gestures.
My friend once mentioned how her boyfriend changed her tire — soon after, we set time aside to learn how to change one ourselves. Another friend got her boyfriend to parallel park her car, so later we practiced together in a parking lot. And when another wanted help with calculus homework, we watched a sickening number of videos on integrals together.
Each time, the goal remains the same — to build skills in each other so that we can become self-sufficient, not waiting for anyone else to swoop in. It’s easy to accept less from others if you feel like you have to depend on them.
Somewhere within my petty ambition to outdo his parallel parking skills, I realized that the mediocre boyfriend isn’t just a nuisance, but a living reminder of our ability to define what the “bare minimum” amounts to.
One of my closest friends checks and changes my oil regularly. Another close friend helped me get my first credit card. Another friend taught me how to reverse park, code programs and how to set up a brokerage account.
And because of these friends — the ones who have invested effort into me without any need for a romantic title — I have never mistaken average for exceptional. My friends raise my bar every day.
Why beg someone for the bare minimum when you are surrounded by people who exceed it with ease?
We have the ability to redefine what kindness, generosity, intention and love looks like to the people around us. That’s the responsibility we ought to carry for one another. Not to compete with a mediocre boyfriend (let’s be honest — there’s no competition), but to keep showing up in ways that make it impossible for our friends to confuse real effort as a rare occurrence. We might not be able to remedy our friends’ questionable taste in partners, but we can extinguish their need to settle at all.
The goal isn’t to force their partners to do better, but to make anything less than better so unfamiliar that it’s unacceptable.
So outdo your friend’s boyfriend. Because frankly, the bar is in hell.