Getting Past Mr. Big

One of the first things people asked me after finding out that I had a relationship column here was “Are you going to be Portland’s very own Carrie Bradshaw?”  Of course, I explained that I was nothing like the sophisticated shoe and fashion diva of NYC.  But like Carrie I definitely have my own Mr. Big.

Who doesn’t?

That one relationship that is toxic and bad and somehow still makes your tummy do all those weird flipping things that let you know that you most definitely do have feelings for each other.

Ok, so that makes it SOUND a bit more harsh than it actually is.  It isn’t like some sort of pre-Fatal Attraction that pulls you into a dangerous abyss of stalking and pain.  There will is usually no bunny boiling as a result.

Instead most of us have a relationship or that one person that we KNOW is bad for us, yet we still keep clinging to the dream that one day things will work out and we will end up together.  Because if the movies and television shows have taught us nothing, it is that these things always work out.

Carrie and Big Get Married
Photo Still: Sex And The City (The Movie)

Like Ms. Bradshaw, I’ve harbored my own dysfunctional relationship with a Mr. Big before.  That boy that no matter who you are dating, what you are doing, where you are, you just can’t help but fantasize internally about the day that the two of you are sitting at a table somewhere when he suddenly realizes that you were obviously meant to be together.

In the meantime you spend any opportunities you can with him, even if it is some activity you abhor or totally ditching your own life to revolve around his.  You overlook the things he says or the actions he takes because no one else understands him like you.  You date the nice boy, and will ditch him the second Mr. Big comes calling.

So how do we get past our Mr. Bigs?

Obviously there isn’t a magic pill or secret method.  And more importantly, dreams of romantic impossibilities aside, we probably are not going to end up changing or fixing things when it comes to dysfunction.

It took me about 2.5 years of fawning and flirting.  Stolen moments together and whispers from mutual friends abounded.  Long conversations of brilliance and drunken fights about nothing.  Mostly unrequited feelings and only sometimes kind of answered.  It took me waking up one morning to think about the events of the evening before and realizing in one stomach churning moment that I was making myself a fool for some guy.

I’m totally fine being a fool for someone I care about.

But it has to be someone who will be a fool right back.

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