You know those women on Dr. Phil and Judge Judy? The ones who go through their boyfriend’s cell phones for signs of infidelity? The ones who site Facebook messages as “evidence” on national television? The ones who demand paternity tests and polygraphs?
They’re easy to spot, mainly because they look like complete-and-utter lunatics.
Also, they’re usually way better looking than the guilty party, even while they’re flinging accusations across the courtroom. Watching those sort of women, you can’t help but sit there and think to yourself “What does she see in him? She could do sooooo much better!”
Unfortunately, they’re not just limited to daytime television. Oh no. You can find them in books too. Take Bridget Jones. She spends hours dialing a special code into her own phone to check if her bastard-of-a-boss, Daniel Cleaver, has called. To no one’s great surprise (except perhaps her own), he hasn’t. And he never will. Because he’s an emotional f*ckwit.
Then you’ve got one of the original Austen gals: Marianne Dashwood of Sense and Sensibility fame. She goes so crazy over Willoughby that she writes to him every day, only to discover that he’s engaged to someone else. In a fit of insanity, she decides to take a “short” walk but instead hikes all the way to his freakin’ house, in the rain with nary an umbrella, and nearly dies as a result.
Fortunately, “infectious fevers” were a much bigger deal in the nineteenth century than they are today but the propensity for insane behavior hasn’t changed much.
I know this because when I first moved back from London, I watched a lot of Dr. Phil. And Judge Judy. And I’d sit there with my mom shaking my head saying things like:
Is she crazy?
She must be crazy!
That woman is off her rocker!
Take a hint, lady: he’s just not that into you!
Of course I would never act as insane as those women. I would never call, then text, then finally resort to Facebook stalking the man in question. I would never spend all night checking my cell phone every hour to see if he’d finally gotten back to me. I would never wake up the next morning only to conclude, “Of course—he’s screening my calls! Obviously there’s been some sort of misunderstanding so if I just call him from a different number, I’ll be able to talk to him and once I talk to him, we’ll be able to straighten everything out.”
Such are not the actions of a rational woman.
Such are not the actions of a woman who is secure in herself and in her relationship(s).
Such are the actions of women like Bridget Jones and Marianne Dashwood and those crazy, unhinged types that end up on reality television and MTV’s Teen Mom.
And yet I went from rational to complete-and-utter-lunatic in less than 24 hours this past weekend.
This is because it took Date #7 seventeen hours to accidentally leave his cell phone charger behind in Pittsburgh, arrive at his brother’s place in the suburbs, leave me hanging at the bar where were supposed to meet on Friday night and get himself to a Radio Shack the next morning to rectify the cell phone situation.
Rational people, however, don’t go insane overnight.
Insecure people go insane overnight.
In the words of my aunt from Arizona: Need I say more?
I think not.
PS: I set this post to auto-publish first thing this morning but obviously I missed a step… apologies for the delay. In fact, let’s blame date #7. I’m sure somehow its his fault.
- I’m Marianne Dashwood. (jillianreadsbooks2.wordpress.com)
- Yes! Mr. Darcy Colin Firth Talks Bridget Jones 3! (perezhilton.com)