Banish The Pixie Dream Girl

I was going to write a post seeking riding buddies and new friends on the road, but then I got sidetracked by a recent episode of the podcast Modern Love.

At first blush ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl‘ seemed like it was going to be a cheesy love story, but you know, that’s not really Modern Love style. There must be some insight. There is always a lesson.

As the narrator talked about his love of the genre of manic pixie dream girl romance. He told a story of how he once found his very own manic pixie dream girl. Describing the exciting but damaged personality that makes up the manic pixie dream girl, I wondered if I envisioned myself as a manic pixie dream girl too.

No, I don’t envision myself as a Natalie Portman from Garden State. I lack the physique and eating discipline to actually be pixie-like (note: photo is nothing like Natalie Portman) But that old trope of the fun, interesting, quirky and intriguing girl who is also emotionally and mentally damaged from whatever ghosts haunt her and she needs fixing by a stable, strong, infinitely patient protagonist. The storyline goes that the stable protagonist finds himself a manic pixie dream girl. She, through her wild antics, she draws him out of his shell and introduces him to an exotic new world of new experiences and, of course, sex.

They fall in love. But the heroine can’t escape her mental defects. The sexy intrigue becomes unbearably eccentric. The wild excitement turns into fear-inducing volatility. The fun quirkiness becomes mental instability. The sass becomes mean.

We worry about what she will do to him. Or what she will do to the relationship. And we are certain she will ultimately hurt herself. Naturally, love overcomes all and our strong and stable protagonist is able to fix her; thus saving her from herself.

My favorite of this genre is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. It doesn’t follow this exact formula and our manic pixie dream girl, Clementine, is less hapless and cutesy pixie and more self-assured and decisive woman. I hesitate to add manic, because that would imply she actually has a mental health disorder that the audience thinks she needs fixing. She doesn’t need fixing.

As I declared myself an atheist at age twelve, I am not so into the idea of fate nor star-crossed lovers nor soulmates nor one true loves. So, it’s odd that I love this movie so much. It relies entirely on fate – our two soulmates, despite erasing each other from their minds, they find each other again because they are destined to be together.

The movie abruptly ends after they find out they erased each other from their respective brains. They learn about their previously volitile relationship that ended in heartbreak.

Roll credits.

We are left to believe Joel and Clementine are fated to be together. Armed with the knowledge of how their relationship failed, perhaps they avoid all the mistakes of the past and live happily ever after.

Or maybe they are the same people, the same personalities and the same relationship they were the first time. Perhaps, they are destined to just repeat the same heartbreak again and again and again. Groundhogs Day.

Okay, that was a fun recap of my favorite movie. So, why, you might ask, would I envision myself some sort of manic pixie dream girl? I don’t want to, really. In fact, it’s not even specifically the manic pixie dream girl that is the problem.

She is just the embodiment of that tired old mentality that most of those smart, intriguing and fun girls we love are flawed. They need to be fixed. The “I like all these things about you and you would be perfect if you could just fix all these things about you.” Your amazing, but totally screwed up. I’ll take all the good stuff, but let me help you identify and eliminate all this shit that stinks and offends me. Your great, but broken.

Here is the problem. We are all flawed. No, not flawed. We are all different. With the good weirdness comes the bad strangeness. With the exciting and exotic comes the scary and different. With the wild and fun come the unpredictable and volatile. It is all matter of degrees and increments, compromises and acceptance. It is not flaws in need of fixes.

I fell for the romantic construct of the manic pixie dream girl. We all do at some point, don’t we? We envision ourselves as some gauzy, doe-eyed creature who is wonderfully and tragically imperfect. We are broken and we need someone to fix us and save us from ourselves. And it’s not just any anyone – it is only the fated one.

No doubt, I can be improved. But let’s banish the manic pixie dream girl and all her incarnations. The concept of her is broken. I am not.

Happy cooking and dreaming!

Help. I need a lifeline.

*Disclaimer: This post is about knowing vulnerability and knowing when you need to call for the lifeline. Thank you to everyone who reached out.

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Today was a hard day. Something happened. I won’t get into the specifics, but it sucked.

This is to the friends who pick up when you say “I need to be talked off the ledge, help.”

To the people who arrive with no judgement, a hug and they just say “I hear you had a hard day.” Then offer an embrace.

Today, there will be no photo. No cartoons. No quips. No bullshit.

Nothing but words tonight. Thank you very much.

Just me. Just words.

Some shit happened.

At first, it was just something ordinary. Something I could handle. Something fucked up, but basic. Shit was askew. A bit crooked.

With a bit if time, it morphed. It wasn’t so simple.

Was it?

Something a bit askew stems from a foundation that is… askew. The flaw is built in. It is fundamental.

I wanted answers. I wasn’t crazy. I deserved answers. Why was it askew? Why wasn’t I being assured? Why was I being ignored?

This.

This, it wasn’t minor. It was my future. Let’s not pretend. It was my life.

Panic.

It settled in. Enveloped me in it’s folds. Like a blanket.

Like a tide.

An overwhelming feeling of suffocating.

Drowning.

Overwhelming.

Gasp.

Stop.

I grasp for breath.

Stop.

Don’t let it drown me.

Help. I need a lifeline.

That’s all.

Suppress the panic. Don’t let it drown me.

It is actually okay.

.

.

.

Hello?.

.

.

.

Can we talk?

Can you talk me off the ledge?

.

.

Take me somewhere else?

.

Help me find my breath?

Can we break the despair?

Can I stop me from being me?

Yes.

Hello?

How are you?

Let’s talk.

How’s about distracting random bullshit that doesn’t relate to anything at all?

Okay.

Yes.

Breathe.

Full. Deep. Free.

Breath.