Reflections of a boyfriend of a manic pixie dream girl

Week One: Today I met the most amazing girl! She’s so quirky and weird. She has glasses and wears clashing hats. I want to marry her and sleep by her side forever! Wow, she has a high pitched stuttering nerd voice! She’s so accessibly vulnerably hot. I’m head over heels in love! And it’s all genuine; nothing about it is a character!

“Hi, my name is Steve, I couldn’t help but notice you rode a bicycle awkwardly and fell down getting off of it. Would you like to go to dinner sometime?”

Week Two: This has been the best week of my life, that I can conceivably remember! We sang karaoke! Outside we danced in the streets under a lamp! She’s always giggling, playing ukulele, and running around like a fairy. It’s so sweet when she kisses the back of my neck when I’m working. I really am falling in love with this girl.

Week Three: This week has been great! She made me a cute mixtape on a cassette. She does things like cook food in her underwear and leaves her shoes everywhere. I mean, it’s fine, but like, everywhere. It’s adorable. She talks a lot in her sleep, which is childlike and endearing, not too annoying. I really like this girl.

Week Four: It’s going good. Well. I don’t know. She still plays her ukulele and kisses the back of my neck when I’m really trying to get work done. It’s like she’s from another planet where she doesn’t understand that Earth money is made from work, not drawing pictures of cows with stars for eyes. It’s so eccentric and charming... But when I sort of snapped at her for not giving me space she cried sitting down in the shower for an hour. She is really sweet. I think I’m starting to like this girl.

Week Five: Honestly it’s been really hard. It’s difficult to sleep next to someone crying in their sleep like an out of tune Bjork song on loop. She is in her late 20s and still acts like a kid. I don’t wanna fuck a kid! She wanted to sing karaoke the other night. Who likes karaoke? Idiots who wear cat cardigans to job interviews, that’s who. We were walking down the street and some bar was playing a song and she tried to make me dance with her outside in the cold. I told her I just want to go home and watch Game of Thrones, like an adult, and she asked me if I loved her and when I said I don’t know she just got on a random bus, a random one, without looking at the number. What a dummy. How does she even get her shoes on the right feet? I guess sometimes she has mismatched shoes, but, oh god, is that on purpose or not? Ugggh. No, I mean, I do think she’s cute.

Week Six: What kind of fucking adult makes cassette mixtapes? Everything is on spotify now and this grown woman gave me a fucking cassette tape wrapped in flowers and weeds she stole from a neighbor’s garden. I hope she got poison ivy. Just kidding. I think.

Week Seven: Stop talking to birds!

Week Eight: Oh. Oh, god, I’m so tired.

Week Nine: Are you serious? Nothing about this is a character?

Love Letters I'm sure got lost in the mail

From the Comic Book Store Clerk:

Hey, you. Let's stop fighting this. We both know how we feel about each other. We both have glasses and awkward cardigans. Let's just sweep these magic the gathering cards off this sticker clad counter and see where the night takes us.

PS. I'll make sure you're facing the Marvel rack.



From My Literature TA in College:

Dear Barbara,

I am writing to inform you, I am so utterly, completely  and hopelessly in love with you. I know we haven't spoken in four years, but alas, your thoughtful prose and clever use of wordplay slayed me eternally. I shall never be able to forget you. You are an amazing writer.



From My Therapist:

I like your personality.



From the guy I liked in college:

Hey, I'm so sorry for all the things I did and said. I clearly was totes in the wrong. I'm sorry I called you thunder thighs and left you at your doctor's appointment, driving off because I thought it was funny. It was funny, but in a mean hurtful way. I miss you so much. You are the most beautiful girl in the world and I know I don't deserve a second chance, but if you were altruistic enough to give me one, I would do everything I could to make you happy for the rest of your life. Also, you still have my Pixies hoodie. You can keep it.



From the guy I like now:

I was such a fucking idiot not to notice how special you are immediately  Let's have a picnic and do kisses in the rain to a Belle and Sebastian song and be in love forever, K?


From the last guy I intercoursed:

Yes, I left that t-shirt in your bedroom because I WANT you to smell it.


From the guy on the bus who looked like a bespectacled Michael Cera:

Yeah, I did just touch your leg with my leg. It wasn't exactly an accident.



From the barista at my coffee shop:

Hey kiddo, every day when you come in here to write, I try to get up the courage to tell you that you're gorgeous and interesting. I want to read everything you write and support you in your art. Here's a free latte.



From anyone:

You're really hilarious.



From my roommate's dog:

Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!

MSN Messenger Chat with 15 Year Old Me

Due to a rift in the space time continuum, I was able to log on through the internet to reach out ten years into the past to talk to myself as a teenager and attempt to give myself some advice and encouragement during the sulky high school years.

25 year old me: Hey, younger self,

Charmedfan224: Hey dude! Wassup?!

25 year old me: We don’t have a lot of time before the space time continuum returns to normal, so I gotta make this quick. I just wanted to say, hang in there. I know high school can be isolating and anxiety inducing, but it doesn’t feel that way forever, little Barbara.

Charmedfan224: I’m not little. I’m hella fat.

25 year old me: No, no you are not. And when you get to be older, you’ll wish that you appreciated that body while you had it, instead of constantly hating it.

Charmedfan224: Eww, gross, so you’re like fat!!

25 year old me: No. So, okay, what I’m trying to say is, I know you’re super depressed and all, but it’s going to work out okay. Everything that gave you panic attacks in high school won’t even matter to you as an adult.

Charmedfan224: You don’t get panic attacks anymore?

25 year old me: Um. Well.  

Charmedfan224: Yesterday, I had a panic attack in marching band practice, and I peed my pants, and I was sitting next to Steve, but I just told him I spilled soda so totally tricked him! Yay!

25 year old me: Smart thinking.

Charmedfan224: So, what’s Steve like as an old man?

25 year old me: I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since high school.

Charmedfan224: STEVE AND I BREAK UP?!? WHAT DID YOU DO?

25 year old me: Me? I… I didn’t do anything.

Charmedfan224: You need to tell me exactly specifically why he broke up with you so I can prevent it from happening!! Did I not touch up my black nail polish often enough? Were my combat boots not as clumpy as the other girls? Were the pink streaks in my hair too “cute pink” and not “punk pink” enough?

25 year old me: I don’t even remember.

Charmedfan224: How could you not remember losing the love of your life?!?! Are you like totally stupid or something?

25 year old me: Listen, little Barbara, you’re gonna fall in love so many times and get your heart broken a lot, and it’ll hurt a hell of a lot but afterwards Mom will take us out for shopping and ice cream.

Charmedfan224: Haha! You still hang out with Mom! That’s so embarrassing! Tell me at the very least you don’t let her walk next to you!

25 year old me: ….

Charmedfan224: Gross! You’re like a little baby! I bet everyone thinks you’re a little baby! Hahaha!

25 year old me: My therapist says I’m emotionally mature enough for my age. Never mind. I just… I just wanted to tell you that it all turns out okay.

Charmedfan224: Does it? Does Morrissey get our letter and get The Smiths back together?

25 year old me: No. I don’t know. I don’t really keep up with music trivia news so much anymore.

Charmedfan224: Oh, does your boyfriend not care about music?

25 year old me: I don’t have a boyfriend.

Charmedfan224: Why?

25 year old me: I’m just taking some time and working on me right now.

Charmedfan224: What does that mean?

25 year old me: I don’t know anymore.

Charmedfan224: Okay, so I have a chat room date with the girls from the Dawson’s Creek fan club in an hour, so if I want to have enough time to call Rebecca I better log off now. I just want to tell you… good luck with everything. I’m sorry your life sucks so much. Maybe there’s like a band camp for adults? Best of luck to you, old Barbara!

Manic Pixie Dream Girl

It's a tireless story. Boy meets girl. Girl meets boy. Often it's the same boy that met the same girl from the first time around. I guess they met simultaneously otherwise this would be multiple tireless stories. Boy and girl start dating and become adorably infatuated and touchey feely and learn how to do facetime videochat on a gigantic ipad. Boy looks over his girlfriend's shoulder as she talks to him about her leggings. Her voice tunes out. Her face becomes a blur. Over his girlfriend's shoulder he sees his soulmate.

The woman was standing behind his girlfriend in line at the airport, heavily layered in two hoodies and a coat underneath a giant backpack. In preparation for the 5:00am flight, her hair is in a suitabley disgusting greasy mess, hanging in stringy strands over her pale pimply face, as she has stayed up all night doing something creative and special. The boy on the ipad gazes at her as she stares straight ahead, zoning out into the distance. She looks straight through him with dark circles under her dead lightless eyes. Her chin is speckled with mustard globs. She blinks slowly in the harsh airport light and wipes a booger from her large nose. Oblivious to him she mutters the words of a song to herself in a soft, loose melody and no one around her notices.

The boy is in love.

Nothing could have taken longer than that plane ride. The boy fidgets and reads and watches television and hates himself and cries. When he goes to pick his girlfriend up at the airport he keeps looking around her while she chats about her vacation and collects her pink Hello Kitty roller suitcase. He evades her neatly eyelinered eyes as she smiles her perfect smile and shakes her long, shiny dark hair. And there she is.

The woman, a little bit older than his current girlfriend, has taken off her hoodies to search for something in her bag. She's grunting and heaving as she digs like a pig through a muddy trough. There are off yellow sweatstains all over her shirt. She is talking to herself about nothing at all.

The boy has never met anyone so quirky and different. He pushes past his tiny girlfriend and approaches the woman absentmindedly scratching her crotch in public.

"Hello," says the boy.

"BUGS!" she shouts, her eyes wide and frantic.

"Pardon?"

"Bugs," she whimpers in painful fear pointing at his sneakers which do have Bugs Bunny on them.

"It's okay," he says soothingly. "He can't hurt you." She is so sweet and innocent and childlike! He wants to protect her and hold her.

"If you sing songs about him the future can hear you," she softly mutters, looking away at a trash can.

"Golly," says the boy breathlessly. "That's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

The girl starts crying. She grabs her spacious love handles and points at an escalator. "That's not my hat."

"Listen," the boy says. "I think you're the most unique and quirky thing I've ever seen. You're like a flower in a pond of seascum. You're a manic pixie dream girl. Hey, I've only known you a few minutes, but I think I'm in love with you."

A man older than them walks up and puts his hand on the girl's shoulder. "What the fuck do you think you're doing with my mentally disabled daughter?" He growls at the boy. The man is much bigger than the boy, with years of pain etched under his eyes. The girl under his hand smiles and waves at the boy. The boy steps back and looks at both of them with both of his eyes.

"Oh! Oh? Oh! Um."

"Walk the fuck away."

The boy is heartbroken. He has lost his soulmate, the love of his life, the light that shone in the darkness of the graveyard of his childhood. She was the one who had taught him to dance in the fields at nightfall, to remember what it feels like to laugh, to twirl int he rain. She was his angel and his angle, an acute one. Goodbye to love, to happily ever after, goodbye to rainbows and ukulele music on a picnic. Goodbye, my dear, my love, carpe diem.

The boy walks back to his girlfriend, his hopes shattered, his dreams broken. And he knows he will never feel this way again.

The impossibly quirky abstract girl follows the big man to the car while he lectures her. She sings and laughs to herself when the leave the airport and enters the pool of cold dry sunshine.

Things I have apologized for

In the gym: "I'm sorry I was naked in the locker room."

At work: "Yes, I'm here early, sorry."

To a guy in the bank complaining about the line: "Sorry I came to the bank at the same time as you."

To my dad: "Sorry I said I don't care about the actress from the dragon tattoo movies."

To my roommate after he said I've been working late a lot: "Sorry."

To my roommate after he commented that I've been home a lot: "Sorry."

To my boyfriend: "Sorry I don't like MMORPGS."

To my best friend: "Sorry I called. Sorry I love you."

To a lady at the coffee shop who almost bumped into me but didn't: "Sorry."

In my room completely alone, to a dresser: "Sorry."

The ideal receptionist as imagined by the older white man on the other end of the phone

The ideal receptionist as imagined by the older white man on the other end of the phone:

"Yeah, I do have weekend plans. And furthermore I feel totally comfortable sharing them with a stranger."

"Oh my gosh, you got an attorney's voicemail? I cannot believe it! The only possible explanation is that sinister wrongdoings have transpired. Let me scour the building, nay, the world for him! No, of course I won't put you on hold; I have a bluetooth, sorry, sorry I mean a magical wizard hat. I apologize for confusing you with my loud, brassy slang. Just one second while I train this flamingo to cover the front desk while I find your attorney, because I have nothing else to do."

"You're right, I do have a slight lisp. Yes, it is hilarious that you pointed out an obvious physical handicap of mine. Hahaha!"

"Yes, it is cold outside. It's good that weather happens."

"No, I didn't just accidentally call you dad, sir... I said 'rad'."

"I AM in fact eating something! You caught me! Now you win a prize elephant named Albert. Yeah, I know you really wanted that prize, otherwise why else would a stranger identify my snack consumption?"

"So, you don't know who you're calling for, you're not sure if they have ever worked at this office, and you haven't talked with them in 40 years, but you know that he/she played golf once with an Asian man? Yes, I know exactly of whom you speak."

"Oh, fascinating."

“Wait a minute, are you telling me that you tried to call someone and they didn’t call you back? WHAT MADNESS IS THIS PLACE?!”

"My voice sounds too childlike? Thank you so much for telling me! Because I have complete control over it, so obviously I appreciate any and all constructive feedback."

"Sorry, they aren't in the office at the moment. Oh, they're expecting you? This. Changes. Everything."

"Good afternoon, thank you for calling- oh, er, um, Barbara... Oh really, that's your mom's name? How interesting. Yes, I do know her. From the great war."

"Of course I remember you from when you called two months ago."

"Wow, thank you so much for asking how my day is going! Someone in this miserable world does care! I am going to telegram my mother to tell her that I do matter. Sure, we wasted a few seconds of our lives with small talk, but I'll make that time back tonight tenfold because I won't have to lock myself in the bathroom and cut a tiny notch in my arm!"

"No, TGIF to you, sir. TGIF to you."