COLUMN | DRUGS
Written by Elle Daji (she/her) | @ellemnopow | Contributing Writer
Every weekend, countless $15 happy hour margs at Coco’s are downed in order to quell the anxieties caused by the hottest accessory of every bang sporting bisexual. You’ll hear him coming before you see him, carabiner jingling from some low-waisted and wide-leg Diesel jeans. He lingers in the second-hand section of a record store, riffles through the racks of your local Save Mart and scurries along Karangahape Road on a Friday night. He’ll woo you with his knowledge of local sounds and will probably play the guitar at you. Unfortunately, you’ll let him. The f-boy has morphed into a loafer-wearing monster that quotes Joan Didion on command and has the uncanny ability to pull every Tamaki it-girl you’ve ever met. However, this tantalising creature may not be good for you. He is afflicted with the emotional availability of Barney Stinson and leaves a trail of tormented past lovers in his wake. As a point of principle, my friends and I refuse to fall victim to this man in our next relationship. So, how do we get over this uber-cool but ultimately disappointing love interest?
Some of the most independent and rational women I know have offered themselves up as cheese for this rat. Exhibit A, a friend of mine, Eileen is the perfect vintage thread-wearing prey for this predator. They typically drive her to Otessa Moshfegh levels of insanity. She was wined, dined, love-bombed and instantly dropped by the rodent man after they had been intimate. Rumour has it she checks his Instagram twice a week. He removed her from social media and yet I still hear about him fortnightly. It’s been five months.
Another friend of mine, Miriam, was driven to similar levels of despair. After a man noted her Baobei necklace and showed her his well-organised record collection, she knew it was all over for her. A few dates and a few nights together later it ended abruptly and all but mutually. Miriam found herself relating a little too hard to Sylvia Plath and no longer listens to Heaven or Las Vegas without feeling wistful. And every time she drinks a few too many natty wines, she leaves him a few too many missed calls.
These men seem to have one common thread: they outwardly present a façade of emotional intelligence and a desire for a relationship. They lure you in by presenting a multi-faceted character who aligns with you spiritually. Internally, however, all they want is a night or two with someone to fill that void created by the first person they ever dated. Harsh.
Over several conversations with friends, I have found that we all want to appear a little less psychotic and fall a little less hard. Simply, if you smell incense and hear the click-clack of a square-toe boot, RUN! Easier said than done? Well yes, but maybe this archetype is worthy of further dissection. In this desert of a dating landscape, we look for easily identifiable traits to mark whether someone is worth pursuing. Horrifically, compatibility with a love interest cannot be calculated by the sum of the books they read, coffee shops they frequent, or films they can quote on command. It is all too easy to fall for, wait for it, the idea of them.
Before getting swept up in the smell of a replica perfume, stop and ponder. Is he prone to large declarations of affection without any follow-through? How sporadic is his communication? When you do talk, can you sense an agenda or price to his attention? How does he treat the other people in his life? These kinds of inquiries do go without saying, but I often find myself blinded by the romantic version I’ve created in my head. So blinded, that I forget to work out if I even like spending time with them. Regrettably, sometimes, I ignore the fact that they make me far too anxious for the benefit they provide. I think, more often than not, we can hyper-fixate on certain traits we find attractive and ignore some of the harmful yet material traits they carry. You won’t always get it right, but grounding yourself in the nonphysical traits you’re looking for can prevent unnecessary heartbreak.
Moreover, these situations end because of ill-defined relationship expectations. Sometimes it can be good to recognize what you’re looking for and understand that your needs may be incompatible with what they are willing to give.
But at this young age, there are, in fact, many people out there. Don’t be disheartened when the pet rat of your dreams, Timothee Chalamet, turns out to be a nightmare. There will always be another person out there; you just have to be open to some trial and error. And often, those trials can be oh-so fun. Or at least make for a salacious story to regale over dinner. Never forget that in the end, he’s just a rat, and rats come in packs. There’s plenty more crawling around your local Tatty’s, looking at baggy jeans and sporting some Sambas.
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