I’m not your Manic Pixie Dream Girl.

I’m not your manic pixie dream girl.

But I can see how it’d apply.

How you’d pin me as her.

File me in that box.

Project onto me as you project yourself to be: the romanic one. 

You’re writing the script and I’ve got the look, I must be it! I’m your fit!

The one you’ve been waiting for.

You want a real relationship now and what’s better than a fantasy girl to get the part? To be your leading lady. I’m here to lead you right out of your self deprecation and reward you with some sexual flagellation – you’ll presume I’ve got a kinky side.

And in my two dimensional personality, you’ll construct a new reality, where I’m cool-girl sexy and mama bear with cookies and care. And down to fuck, whenever you see fit because Boy, you’re it! And I’ll try anything new, as long as baby, it’s only with you. Because I’ve never done it before – it’s special and true and means so much more when it’s the first time round.

Let’s forget I ever had a past and wipe my slate clean. I’ll light up when I see you. I won’t just smile, I’ll beam! Because you make everything better, when I’m under the weather. You take all my sadness away. The skies aren’t so grey, when you’re around.

And no – your belly’s not fat! You’re hair isn’t thinning! And I’m not into all that anyway. I just want to look good for you! Can’t keep my hands to myself – when you’re around.

I won’t pressure you to commit. I’m okay with inertia, let’s play it by ear and see how it goes? You’ve got enough on your plate with your career and decisions to make. And who am I kidding – it’s all about you babe! Sure you’ll ask about my day and listen to my poems – I’m such a kooky little fairy to the giant garden gnome – in your pants. Such a sparkly sense of humour. I’m your magic boy. You made me up. Enjoy the version in your head, because the version in your bed is not your manic pixie dream girl.

I bleed and I sob and I sweat, shit and scream.

I battle night terrors, my emotions are extreme.

There’s a missing and a longing and a yearning for this dream

and I’m not quiet sure what it is yet.

But I know what it’s not.

It’s not meeting the boy in real life – which never happens anymore. It does.

It’s not the conversation for hours where I’m consulting you about your life and you think it’s a chat. I should be charging for that. Where’s my value exchange at? The snack at the bar, that ‘you got this’. My what a man! Except a man’s not my plan! Because I’m not your manic pixie dream girl.

You have no idea who I am. And exceptional, rare and unique, you comic-book geek, is not a pedestal I want to perch. I want someone who flies with me. Let’s not fix broken wings. I’m no ones ‘chic’. I’m a bird of prey, falcon tame me.

Or falcon fly with me.

I want mutual respect. Not banter, rapport. Not free creative consultation but connected conversation where you actually have something you commit to in it. What do you stand for? What do you believe? What have you clung to? What would you cleave? How have you hurt? How have you healed? What are you hiding? What have you yet to reveal?

I want to see your soul, mate. Not chit chat over a dinner plate. Romantic restaurants are just fine, but connecting to spirit, now thats sublime! I’m not one for the fence, I’m fucking intense. But let’s start off slow. Let’s talk and let’s grow. Just promise me this: let’s not pretend.

You’re not my prince charming and I am not your manic pixie dream girl.

Let’s play in the real. Are you ready to deal?

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