The Top-Dog Syndrome

Ive discovered a horrible truth about myself (yes, yet another one, nyaha!): I have the top-dog syndrome.

I have had the good fortune of being born to parental units who provide me with all the best things in life. Growing up, I had more than my fair share of Barbie dolls, Gameboys, rollerblades and what-have-yous. I was the first kid in the block to wear Skechers back in the days when four thousand pesos was an atrocious amount to spend on footwear. Remember when cell phones were as big as TV remote controls and cost an arm and a leg? I was the only kid in school to own one. Voice lessons, violin lessons, swimming lessons, ballet classes, piano lessons, and all sorts of trivial pursuits, you name it. For some time, I resembled a human satellite dish, walking around with a years paycheck worth of orthodontic work in my mouth. And until my Mom learned how to drive and took over the family car, at eleven, I had the family driver at my beck and call. Its expensive to be me, Im a lot to take care of. I can not live without my great big pink bottles of Victorias Secret, my travel money for my thrice yearly debate tournament trips, derma treatments, hair spa and all manner of frivolous expenditure. Fortunately, Ive never had to. I have always prided myself for not being materialistic. I have been provided for well enough so that I am able to take material things for granted, spoiled enough so that it is not as much an issue to me as it is for some people. But then, I have recently found out there is a trade off.

Of late, I have discovered that I have a weakness for the top dog. In my choice of company, of friends and most especially of boyfriends in any given crowd, I predictably, invariably, unfailingly gravitate towards the man on the pedestal.

Take for instance Omar. Omar was the guy who was always almost the champion at Public Speaking in the Mindanao Parliamentary Debate Tournaments, four years in a row. Almost. See the thing was, it was me who was champion Public Speaker four years in a row, and he was the guy who always came in second. I never gave Omar the time of day. That is until we competed in Manila for the National Debate Championships and he was ranked the third best adjudicator in the country. I was impressed silly! It was right about then when I fell madly in love with him. But you see, the weird thing was, I was ranked number two best public speaker in the national level, and so the whole time I was so impressed by him, HE was so impressed by me. Funny, huh?

The whole Omar thing is symptomatic of a recurring behavioral pattern. Last semester, I dated this guy from class, Marlon. Turns out he was screwing me over. For the record, even if Id have known about the girlfriend from the get go, it really wouldnt have made much difference to me. I am strictly mercenary when it comes to matters of the heart, and I have no sympathy for any woman who cant keep her man on a short leash. But the point was, he had the nerve to juggle me with some twat. He dared to mess with me! And one should never mess with a homicidal manic-depressive. The whole fiasco culminated in me siccing my fraternity brothers on him and him getting beaten up in some dark corner. Later, a common friend, Dondie asked me why I ever *made patol* to Marlon in the first place. *Tryt, dont tell me you were impressed because he got the second highest score in the Law Entrance Exam? Thats it, isnt it? Hes famous for that around your department.* I told Dondie yes, as a matter of fact, that was exactly why, and he starts wailing *Jumping mother of pearl Tryt, you got the highest score!* Go figure huh?

Looking back the list goes on: battalion commanders, team captains, student body presidents, editors-in-chief. . . sure I had my share of human reclamation projects (what can I say, my taste swings to both extremes; theres something irresistible about the needy, whiny, angsty, mal-adjusted mamas boys too), but for the most part, its always been the top dog for me.

Im not quite sure how to explain my fascination for the alpha male. Maybe Im just looking for someone to fill in my gaps. But you see, I have my own pile. And more often than not, my pile is bigger than his. I have always been the whatever-you-can-do-well-I-can-do-better kind of girl, which has not exactly been a good thing because then, with me every date becomes a track meet. But I am very confident of my accomplishments and very proud of my achievements. Oh for quite a while I was the girl who obsessively threw her hat into the ring at every opportunity but Ive done quite well in the national arena too so Ive pretty much settled my big-fish-in-a-small-pond issues a long time ago.

So while I can afford myself a measure of satisfaction in knowing that Im not just another girl looking for a rich boyfriend, on the other hand, for all that I like to think of my self as a liberated, open-minded go-getter, I am still, after all, just another little girl looking for a hero. Some alpha male I can put on a pedestal so I wont have to look him in the eye. . . sigh