Having spent most of my childhood in front of the television, I have a proven track record of identifying myself with the powerful women of the small screen - pretty and independent creatures who would tell men off and/or guide them. Yes, one might say I have some daddy issues, but isn't every interraction with the male population rooted in some sort of past with our fathers? Not going too philosophical though, who wouldn't want to have the Power of Donna - a phenomenon in the American television that I tailor to my own needs; because before Paulsen, there was Moss.
Moss left Josh to explore her career options and Paulsen deserted Harvey to work for Louis. Yes, The West Wing had managed to find a way to get the two of them back together - in both, professional and personal life and I have no doubts that Korsh and co. will do the same in Suits (although the personal has always been a grey area). In the end, both shows gave the impression that if you care so deeply for a man for whom you work, the emotions are bound to get involved. Then one day, suddenly, the loyalty is no longer a priority and I guess what I'm asking is...is that such a bad thing?
Being fiercely loyal is an attractive quality, but the line between the loyalty and the mindless admiration/work ethic/fear, is sometimes a little too thin as I've discovered recently in the real life as well.
In the past five years, my relationships with men have formed an interesting chapter in my life - one long-term relationship, one fucky buddy and one interesting friend/co-worker, with plenty of other male figures on top of that, all of whom have provided a solid source of information for me to become the 'entertainer' at every dinner party I was invited to (frankly, I'm few years and 10kg away from becoming the next Bridget Jones). Could it be that having the Power of Donna also means commiting to strange male-driven relationships that define my decisions? Well, looking back at my life - I think so. Somehow, while kicking ass in general, being Sasstina everywhere I went, my personal life was heading backwards.
The long-term relationship was a tale of many things - real emotions and true devotion on the one hand, with constant imbalance and an odd parenting experience on the other. Dating someone who is younger is never a problem as long as it's still a relationship of two equals. It took me a while to realise that even though I cared for the guy deeply, the love had turned into a motherly instinct that demonstrated in constant nagging. It also resulted in a strange living situation (anyone ever shared a bed with their ex for nearly a year?) and a fairly delayed courage to focus on myself.
Ideally, that should have happened after the break-up, but alas, I had found myself an easy rebound. Easy only on the paper, because trading your already young boyfriend for an even younger sex-fix you work with is a recipe for a disaster that I should have seen coming. I chose not to. I now admit that I wanted him to be something he could never be at the time - mature. Ugly arguments, misunderstandings ensued and as much as it would have been easy to blame only the boy, the fact is that it was my decision and my decision only to pursue this affair. The emotional turmoil is something I can live with it, but looking back, the most annoying part about it all is that I consciously stayed at a workplace that was making me utterly miserable in exchange for a few moments of excitement. Did I truly believe that I couldn't do better?
Finally, even the friendship zone proved to be difficult when slowly, but surely, I became really good friends with my manager who has an addictive personality. Soon, I was regularly attending to him and his problems, usually after midnight, to an extent where I started to feel drained, fearing any upcoming crisis. One day, I hastily told him that I cannot do this anymore, resulting in a hysterical break-down (the red wine probably didn't help) with gigantic tears rolling down my cheeks, feeling guilty for even uttering the words of maybe temporarily not being there for someone and focusing on myself.
Now, the important thing here is that none of the men (boys, let's face it) has asked me to mother him, but somehow I felt that my general awesomeness must include putting others first to an extent where anyone can easily argue mommy issues as well as the previously mentioned daddy ones, but let's leave Freud out of this. The fact is that once I purged myself and woke up the following day, I realised that the Power of Donna (it's a thing) comes from within (yes, the almighty new-age philosophy I gag at), and no amount of external and verbalised sass would ever get me where I want to go, as long as I don't commit to it, fully.
Whether it's the men or the money or any other 'perfectly legit reason' to not do certain things or postpone them, ultimately, it is only the fear that has kept me from achieving in life and I am done. Being there for others is nice, dare I say noble, but if it's bordering unhappiness and emptiness at the same time, something's wrong. As much as I love my friends and I will always love my exboyfriends too, I choose to turn to another female character for inspiration: "I love you, but I love me more." Finally, it's time for me to not see the statement as selfish, but as powerful, so, go Donna Paulsen, find a better life for yourself, put yourself first for once. I will be there to witness it, and in case it doesn't go the way you expect it to, nobody, least of all yourself, can blame it on not having tried enough. And you know what? I think I might join you.
