Behind every woman with a man lies a Becky. No she doesn’t have to be the mistress as was speculated in Beyoncès case. She doesn’t even have to be present but the fact is she was there or has been there or will probably be there after we are gone.
You see, we may look and walk tall and poised. We may have our hair and makeup figured out. We may have the perfect jobs and careers but deep down we are dealing with plenty of insecurities. We may not say it because just like chewing should be done like its a secret, some things should be buried deep within us.
Most of the time we are okay. We learn to play down the insecurities and smile even when we would rather not. We learn to tough it out and act as if everything is okay because saying something would look ungrateful. After all, others have less.
We get that someone who makes it okay to want to lay our souls bare. We feel we don’t have to hide anymore. We can remove the masks .Be real.we are happy. We keep the heels though. We have to remain feminine.
Then comes Becky. With her perfect hair or perfect ass or perfect dimensions.It doesn’t have to be hair but it sure will be something we don’t have. Even worse, she has a foreign accent and it doesn’t sound fake. Becky is your ex or that girl you keep meeting at the bus stop every morning she now keeps a seat for you in the bus. Worst case, she is your childhood crush .you haven’t seen her in years and she looks very nice after ditching the braces. ‘Nice’ because even you know any other adjective will land you in trouble.
We bump into her on the streets and because we stop and you say hello we already know its not an acquaintance. The way your face changes betrays you. Or we are chilling in the house and swiping through galleries and the picture pops up. She looks like everything we aren’t and by the uncomfortable silence we know she’s not a cousin.
See, the thing about Becky is she more often than not, a reflection of our insecurities. She will have the perfect ‘everything’ we don’t have and God forbid you actually dated because then we are left wondering what you see in us. Yes, it sounds vain because we know the whole ‘I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to’ but that’s what runs in our mind. Some of us will keep quiet and run to our girlfriends but others won’t refrain from making statements like, ‘ I thought you liked a nice derrière’ because clearly you wouldn’t get close to Becky’s two girls even if you stuffed yourself with a million cutlets.
Well, at this point there are no more illusions. We like to think we are the only one and have always been the only one. The same way you like to think too. Only difference is that ours is a bit more obsessive. We may cyber stalk Becky because we just can’t get her out of our head. She had certainly not be prettier than we are because we will have our girlfriends analyse her. Of course they’ll say we are better because they are our friends. At the end of the day what remains is our insecurities finally show. Even the ones we thought we got over. They are like demons coming to haunt us, like nightmares plaguing a kid’s mind.
Then we come to accept that there will always be a Becky. We can’t do anything about her. What matters is that you are with us not her. So we will keep quiet, take a chill pill and revert to our demure selves. She had her time, we have ours and God knows we are someone else’s Becky.