Malika, the Manic Pixie Dream Girlfriend

I was online the other day, when I'd learned a term I'd never heard before, the "manic pixie dream girlfriend." Being a woman who loves to learn, I quickly googled the term for a definition. What I'd learned shocked me. Apparently, it's a tv/movie character trope.

According to Google, 

A "Manic Pixie Dream Girl" (MPDG) is a character archetype, typically a young, quirky woman, who exists primarily to provide emotional support and life lessons to a male protagonist. The term, coined by film critic Nathan Rabin, describes this character as one-dimensional, serving as a plot device to help the male character grow, but often lacking a well-developed storyline or agency of their own. MPDG characters are often depicted as bubbly, eccentric, and seemingly carefree, with a tendency to "spark" the male protagonist's life with adventure and meaning.

And I was awestruck by how much I felt like I was essentially reading out my life. One of the articles I read seemed to describe me to a tee! A woman who is quirky, often colorful, and "not like the other girls." A woman who marches to the beat of her own drum, and makes life that much more fun and exciting to the others around her. But one of the things that stuck out to me was that the MPDG was always seen as the accessory. A mere tool, utilized to improve the man's life. A one dimensional character, with no plot line or role in the storyline, with no purpose, other than helping the man grow.

It started to make that much more sense. I'd written before about feeling like an NPC (here) and this just solidified my feelings. That there really exist an idea that free-spirited women are not real characters, just tools used by men, to make them better versions of themselves, with no real feelings, emotions, or interests outside of his scope of existence. What's wild to me is how much I've seen this play out in real time. How I'll take guys to many of my favorite haunts and hideouts and I'll see that little spark in them come alive. How I'll drive guys to my favorite spots for stargazing, and they'll tell me that in their 40+ years on the planet, they've never bothered to look up at the sky at night. How I'll be on the phone with them until the wee hours of the mornings, calming their fears and anxiety. How I uplift and encourage them to follow their dreams, when they feel incapable of getting out of bed. And how it never fails, that the moment I'm having a bad day and need some support, they immediately dismiss me, accuse me of being needy, and are almost disgusted by the idea of me needing anywhere near the same degree of love and encouragement that I've endlessly poured into them.

What bugs me so much about this (in part) is how naturally likeable she is. Like everybody loves the bubbly chicks with the awesome jewelry. No one has beef with the funny, earthy girl. Everyone loves her! But it seems like when her place ends, that's kinda it. Or if she stays with him, she stays relegated to his living accessory. She's not allowed to have bad days or fears and anxiety of her own, lest she pop the bubble of the idea of her being impervious to pain and disappointment.

I took this topic to my therapist the other day. She chuckled when she first heard it, and allowed me to explain it, and I told her that I feel like this is who and what I am to people. She nodded in agreement that I did indeed fit some of that mold.

While I'm in the middle of getting my head together, naturally, I need more bullshit in my life like a repair in my home. And it's not just any repair, either. Nope, it was my air conditioner. I mulled over who to call for this. I called my new handy man (he's cute, but married, and I had to create a rule about no dating anyone who fixes stuff in my house), but he doesn't fix air conditioning. He gave me the phone number for his own ac guy. But as I'm trying to stack bread, I feared calling in a new ac person, scared that I didn't have history with him, so he'd tax me. With all of that, I ended up calling none other than FAMM. Dammit, he's an HVAC technician by trade, after all. And the weather is pretty mild now, but this is Georgia, so I expect my face to be boiling off within another month or so.

I just knew he'd pay me dust, and I wrote him off initially, but he surprised me by being open to fixing  it. He showed up, while I was working from home. Naturally, he looked good. Our energy was different. But I guess in a good way. He told me that he got a job at a local shop, which is why he had to stop by so late in the day. We conversed briefly, but kept it light. I didn't ask questions, I didn't profess to miss him (in part, cuz I really don't). But at the same time he didn't either. He didn't ask what happened the last time we talked, and I wasn't really in a rush to have the discussion anyway. I think that we both finally get it that we just don't work that way and bring too much disarray to one another's lives, and none of want that for ourselves or each other. Its kinda cathartic, actually. That chapter is done and there's no need to revisit it again. Thank God.

I told my therapist today how having Jackson around is starting to soften my anxiety around a future of sex or dating. I appreciate this, especially because he's a therapist himself. We're not going to do anything as far as I can see. I love so much how he's not pressuring me. I guess because there's no reason to. We can just be friends with wild sexual chemistry. I think it's in part because he's not in that space and we just enjoy one another, whether we're physical or not. I really missed his friendship and male energy. I guess we're just made for that. And I'm cool with it.

I feel myself going internal for a while, which is greatly needed. I need to just do me. No dating, no sex. No holding anyone else up. No being some man's accessory. I'm just going to be my own pixie, and only spread my fairy dust where it will be respected. Isn't that all any of us want anyway? Shine on.