I don’t want this piece to be a topic of manic pixie dream girls, though I personally find that archetype of woman to be most affected by a man loving the idea of you. To those of you who are unfamiliar with what a manic pixie dream girl is, I’ll give you a brief definition:
Manic Pixie Dream Girl (n phr.)
/ manik pik-sē dreem gurl /
Originated by film critic Nathan Rabin after seeing Elizabethtown, this term refers to a pretty woman with a magnetic personality; she’s bubbly, soulful, and teaches those around her to embrace life and see the world in a romantic view.
She’s dancing in the rain, smiling with the barista, and at the sun even when it chooses not to be there. To be in love with that one side is so easy, but what happens when she’s standing in the middle of a downpour crying over a passed promotion? Or when her stomach hurts, and she orders tea in a prosaic tone? Does he leave, shun, shame, or learn to love the side he hasn’t yet seen?
A man loving the idea of you can happen to any of us women. Those stereotyped into the coined term aren’t the only ones who experience a man being devoted to only one side of you, one photograph in time, or the idea of you. Though it is the most portrayed in film and media—i.e., Elizabethtown, 500 Days of Summer, Ruby Sparks, Garden State—the idea and actuality of a man only loving the idea of you isn’t stuck to a media trope or a truly fictitious stereotype. It’s a lived relation surrounding you and me. The place of a man loving only the idea of you has your real identity with only one leg. You can stand still sometimes with ease, but to walk closer into the relationship, you grab a crutch, something not a part of you. This isn’t an ode to only women; men fall into this too. But it’s an ode to be introspective to those who first hear the words, “I love you.”
I am not a scientist nor a doctor, though I find that if you ask someone what they like about their partner and they respond with answers about how they make them feel versus their attributes and characteristics, the relationship has a possibility of only loving the idea, or to soon be shaky at the least. Maybe it’s just the easier answer at that moment, but I’ve made a habit of asking this question and taking a mental note of the type of answers. Out of those that answered my question with, “She’s amazing, she makes me feel so loved and supported, and makes the best chicken casserole,” or “He’s soooo HOT! I’ve already shared him on my Instagram; he’s also super nice, and tall,” I can personally tell you that those I’ve Instagram-checked are not together today.
Though recently I was chatting with a young man at the bar. His girlfriend was texting him, telling him he has to vote for so and so on the Love Island app tonight. So he asked if I’d do him a solid and do it too. I downloaded the app, and at the time slot I voted, and he voted for exactly who his girlfriend wanted. She sent him a text back with lots of hearts, and his cheeks immediately blushed. So I asked him the usual questions. He told me this was his first real relationship, and I followed with, “What do you like about her?” He looked up near the wine glasses hanging above, smiled, cheeks toned a hue redder, and answered, “It’s the way she solves problems, and on her worst days she’s still kind even if she doesn’t like something, even if it’s a day where she doesn’t like herself. She loves to craft too! It’s so fun watching her start all these projects; she’s cute when she’s thinking.”
But how can you tell? In all fairness, there is no true test or question to be asked to understand concretely where someone’s love is at, which should be remembered as we look at relationships on social media from the outside in. But if you yourself are questioning whether or not your partner loves you or the idea of you, what do you do?
As an artist and writer, I’m quite moody and sensitive. Through childhood, I learned where it was appropriate to show and express myself when my emotions became too much, or perhaps untrue. After having an outburst in 2nd grade over long subtraction—and not noticing my screaming rant of impatience made those who did not yet understand feel less than—my teacher talked with me, Mrs. Sullivan, and I grew as a person. I learned to grab tools to curate my frustrations, and soon found myself helping my classmates with the math I was once so incredibly mad and bored over.
I’m still quite young, an adult now, but with luckily more life ahead than behind. Though I find my days still presenting with new lessons, new emotional hurdles, and new frustrations to grow and learn from as I did with Mrs. Sullivan in the second grade. My tools now, for its portion of hell, the quiet frustrations, and the mundane things that walk the earth, are sitting with myself, writing, driving (though road rage causes another hurdle), and meditating.
There are men that love the idea of you for simply what you bring to their well-being. They can be in love with a curated version of you, the side they need. Maybe your life is put together while theirs is not. Maybe there’s a certain side of you that inspires them to climb to a level you’ve obtained, while the sides of you that do not inspire are shunned and shown concern for.
Because so many of my outlets are done solitary, with just myself, sometimes I fortuitously curate myself to those around me. It’s different when near family, friends, and colleagues, where I can wait till the evening and create a painting instead of growing frustrated in the office, or hold back from telling a friend something I’m not yet sure how to say. I want to work through these larger emotions and obstacles alone at first before having the healthy conversation. Though I’ve found myself in a few predicaments when it comes to romantic relationships. Sometimes the other partner wants to talk through each other’s emotions together, while I desire my tools that utilize solitude before saying words aloud.
When I may be first getting to know someone, those parts of me that stay in solitude as my tools—the meditation, the art, and writing—stay in solitude, and not a topic on the first several dates, if ever. I find myself more open about my writing and art now that I’ve turned it public. I’m still in the turning phases of having the things I do in solitude move more forward-facing. But in previous relationships, with those tools, projects, and outlets kept in solitude, it was typically too long before I had the thought to mention them. Slowly I learned to un-love that side of myself as they fell in love with what I chose to show. Or, the latter of this piece, unwittingly learning to love the idea of me.
Realistically speaking, it can go several ways. Sooner or later, words flow, the art is shared, and a conversation emerges. Some may react and say, well, I want you to talk to me first; I want to be an outlet; I want to be a part of this process. Some may leave, unwilling to learn and love the fuller view. While others may have clawed into the side you’ve allowed, they’re disinterested when first learning that painting is yours, or that you even paint at all. They love the idea of you.
It can be said we have audience members as lovers of the idea of us. The view of you that’s frontal public view—the woman or man that can arrive on their arm to an event, be great with the children, or perhaps just as before, the idea of you they had first learned. Through social media, I think we’ve seen this subcategory grow, but as an ode I promised, I must remind, it’s only inflated adoration. From the most visible examples of grandfathers professing their love to A.I. bots on Threads or Facebook, to the DM requests of Sydney Sweeney, to even someone as normal as just me or you, loving the idea of someone has never been easier; in public or online—it can be anywhere, to anyone.
I was in the sixth grade, and for Physical Education class we had tennis. We all lined up on the long side of the court with our rackets in hand and gym clothes on. Mr. Tedd announced, “Everyone pick a partner; just one, the freedom is yours.” It was down to me and two boys who had been fighting the entire time over who was going to be my partner. John won the intimidation match and was my tennis partner for the week. John’s family soon moved out of state, and I haven’t seen him in person ever since. Through social media we’ve reconnected, followed each other’s pages, and cheered quietly for one another as we grow and achieve new things.
My personal window for being single as an adult has been rather slim. That’s not because I’m usually in a relationship—because I’m not—but because typically I just can’t be arsed. Now that I’ve made my life a tad more public through this WSS series, he’s reached out since I announced my state of being single, publicly. Within a few brief conversations, he’s professed his love and how he knew all along, even during the intimidation match with little Tommy on the tennis courts.
But this leads me to another form of loving the idea of you. Beyond brief conversations through the years and supporting each other on social media, that isn’t nearly enough to be in love with someone. It’s a nostalgic vibe, where the idea of you is heavily curated, whether it be to that week in P.E. class or the slim view that truly does appear online. That isn’t me—not the full me, anyway.
My personal example only showcases that the idea of loving someone is rarely concurrent to just one form. Like a spider web waiting for my face in the sliding glass door, it slowly builds, entangling and latching on in different directions before you’re even awake.
Now I hate to bring you the not-greatest of news, but understanding at your emotional core whether someone loves you or the idea of you is a slow path, often through many unfortunate trials. As we grow older and learn to love ourselves in our fullness, we begin to see that those who loved only the idea of us were welcomed in, or stayed longer, because we hadn’t yet learned to love ourselves past the idea we placed in front.
This brings truth to the cliché saying of, “You must love yourself before another can love you,” but I think a better way of putting it would be: “You must love yourself in all your fullness before another can learn to love you.”
It’s important to remember that throwing the word “love” before you can be loved has its faults and detriments. And perhaps that wasn’t the best word for this narrative, because you can be loved in your fullness while not yet truly loving yourself. It still requires you to see every side of you, the sides you might like not as much, and show them to the person learning to love you for all sides.
Through this series I’ve learned to love the parts of me I’ve kept hidden, switching doubt for admiration as my lenses for my tools sharpen and turn blush with real love. It is through new communication and relationships that we uncover new versions and sides of us once shed with doubt instead of love. Still remember this: you should never feel shame or guilt for what you didn’t know, and through taking action to learn and love yourself in fullness, you are walking on two legs, perfectly forward.
xo,
Sheridan Guerrette
WhatSheridanSaid.com
Life Behind the Artist: Wed at 9/8C
