Let’s play kill/marry with these male archetypes
I’m a girl that grew up in two worlds. One was admittedly a little sheltered and—until that last year of high school—only included the walls of an all-girls school and home. My other was a lot more dynamic and was constantly morphing into something else; it was created by the likes of authors I admired, as well as actors and filmmakers whose work I still find myself growing up to.
But in both of these worlds, I’ve formed relationships with girls and boys and women and men—some of them I’ve fallen in love with, some of them I’ve grown out of and some of them I just loathe. Today, I’m writing a letter to all the (fictional) boys I’ve loved (and hated).
Thank you for teaching me that a relationship should be fun and full of horrible jokes and dressing up in ridiculous costumes. Thank you for showing me that loving someone means loving ~all~ of them, in all their crazy and paranoia and genuine moments.
I must say I loved you when the world was a confusing place and I was a junior in high school trying to figure things out. You and your eye and your confidence and your power—it was everything I thought was important. But then I grew up and realized how manipulative you are and how you only really saw the women your live pawns to play with.
You did not and still do not deserve Queen Bee.
Ugh, the admiration I’ve had for you has not diminished throughout the decades. You were always sweet, never pushy, always looked for consent in every stage of your relationship, always so dependable. The world wasn’t good to you—not always—but you were always so grateful and not once were you anyone else but you.
Warning Huntington III,
You’re a real dipshit. You never thought women were equal to you, just someone to make you look good—not even better. You were in real shock when Elle got into the same school and program you did; then came crawling back when she proved what she was capable of—but only when it was done; you never saw her potential.
*with English accent* Mark Darcy,
Throughout the years I’ve known you, you showed me that strength and love need not be loud—just real. You taught me that there are some things in life that you should fight for and some things that you should just leave be; that whatever is meant for you will find its way to you, eventually.
What’s with all the violence? It solves nothing and yet it’s your solution to everything.
I know that pet name is reserved for someone else to use, but a girl can dream of finding someone like you. Sweet, understanding, loyal, hardworking and completely supportive. And maybe even more importantly, you know what it means to truly forgive.
You are a true piece of work, a real victim of the world. I’m sorry your first wife realized she was a lesbian while you were married and I’m sure that hurt, but how you treated women after that was uncalled for. Emily, Rachel, Janice, Julie, Mona, Bonnie—damn, they all deserved more.
(but only in To All The Boys I Loved Before)
To the Peter Kavinsky of To All The Boys I Loved before (and only TATBILB),
Mhmm, even though I was too old for you, you were totally swoon worthy. A popular guy that had everything going for him falls in love with one of the quieter girls in the school and doesn’t expect her to just fall for him because he’s good looking—you actually put in the effort.
You are proof that money ultimately means nothing when you’re misogynistic, manipulative and a cheat. I guess your pseudo charm can only get you so far.
The male archetypes of film and series have touched us all differently—and a lot of it depends on what stage we’re at in life. Teenage me thought Chuck Bass was so cool; 28-year-old me just wants a Phil Dunphy in my life. But then there are others like Warner Huntington III who should just live on an island by himself for the rest of his life.
Here’s to hoping men like him will never be the highlight of anything again. Here’s to hoping they remain only a funny anecdote, a picture of who not to be and whom to avoid.
Art Alexandra Lara