I understand this complaint better than I’d like to admit:
… sometimes I get a little tired of who I am: rule-bound, attentive to deadlines, fearful that without a Plan B things will go very wrong and I will be left stranded and no one will be able to help me. And, I don’t know, I’d like to be more spontaneous and “fun” but I don’t quite know how. (I don’t know how much of this is “brought to you by” the meme that men like the manic-pixie-dreamgirl type who is fun but a little flakey, but are mostly bored by the woman whose pumps are firmly planted on the ground and who gets her checkbook to balance every month)
I have long suspected and it’s purely a suspicion, because I have no actual experience to support this premise that no man can stand more than one MPDG, because the first one he meets will lay waste to his heart, and perhaps other parts as well.
Then again, I was married, for a while, to someone far more sensible than I. Which is perhaps one reason why it didn’t work out: all the maturity in the household was hers.
This hits me in the heart, though:
I’m not spontaneous and not good at being spontaneous.
I suppose I have it worse; I can be spontaneous, occasionally have been but I’m not particularly good at being spontaneous. After a while, one learns to keep those jets cooled.