Dude in Distress

The image of the damsel in distress pervades our visual culture. From Cinderella to Sleeping Beauty to Repunzel, every young girl, at one point in her life, has wanted to walk in the glass slippers of her favorite Disney princess; I know I was not alone in my youthful desires to wear their flowy ball-gowns, battle it out with wicked stepmothers, and meet my prince charming. With that, it becomes plainly obvious that, from very early on in our lives, women are socialized to believe that we are helpless damsels in need of saving at the hands of a powerful and handsome man. Accordingly, the internalization of this message can manifest itself in many ways. Some of us fake stupidity so as to seem less intelligent than our male counterparts. It’s an ego-boost for them and a cop-out for us—play the part of the ditz and everyone is happy. Others seek out domineering men who exude the powerful qualities that we assume are characteristic of masculinity, while some of us sit around and wait for the prince that will never come. Either way, we are programmed to believe that we cannot function without the help of a strong male figure, involuntarily becoming Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Repunzel: the damsel in distress, minus the fancy dresses to go with it.
While the socially constructed image of the damsel in distress is central to our gender dichotomy, pervading everything from criminology (the stereotypically female victim) to embryology (the ova just waiting to be penetrated by the sperm), I would like to draw your attention to another, less talked about, phenomenon—the notion of the anti-hero. He is the damaged man, emotionally stunted and tragic, in desperate need of our kindness and warm embrace. McNeedy if you will. It is this man, the one we so dreadfully want to save, who captures our attention and feeds our maternal need (if that actually exists) to nurture. The heartbreaking addict. The spineless, yet secretly poetic player. The bad-boy with daddy issues. They’re all perfect, all in need of saving—the more tragic the better. It’s like goddamned Beauty and the Beast all over again.
An analogy. A friend of mine, not for lack of trying, boarded an emotional roller coaster three years ago and has never been able to get off. She met a guy who, at first glance, seemed perfect (are they ever?). He was good looking, charming, funny, and friends with all the right people. On paper, he was a great catch. Now, this girl was somewhat new to the whole dating thing; since she was unfamiliar with the rules of romance (rule number one: never date a guy who knows that indigo shirts make his eyes pop), when the guy expressed that he was just getting over a messy break-up that resulted from his struggles with addiction, my friend was hooked. How sad for him, how perfect for her. The minute this boy unleashed his tsunami of emotional pain on my friend, she labeled him tragic and in need of her guidance and love. He became her project, she became his puppet.
What my friend, and many, many defeated girls, failed to realize was that PEOPLE DO NOT CHANGE. Whatever satisfaction you think you are going to reap by taming he beast will pale in comparison to the angst, despair, and ultimately, defeat that you will feel the whole way through. You cannot change him. He will always be a player, an addict, a bad-boy, despite those glimmers of hope that you cherish and hold on to. Don’t remember the time that he admitted, with your help, that he has a problem and vowed to change. Instead, remember the time he took you out for a romantic dinner one evening and then made out with your roommate in front of your face at the party you both went to later. You want to be his savior, his confidant, his muse, but you will only end up being his punching bag, his sloppy seconds, his mother.
Thankfully, I find the anti-hero to be utterly distasteful. I find nothing less attractive than a man who can’t get his shit together. But I see the appeal. I can understand how tempting it can be to want to help someone get back on his feet. But, heed my words, the destructively symbiotic relationship that results as a consequence of this heroine/dude in distress partnership from hell is not worth the small and inevitably short-lived victory. You’re better off just waiting for prince charming.