Bratty Girl: Looking for McDreamy

Looking for McDreamy

December 9, 2007

I am obsessed with Dr. Derrick Shepard. You know: “McDreamy.” Patrick Dempsey’s character on the TV series Grey’s Anatomy. Okay, maybe guys won’t get this. I don’t know what it is about him; could be all that hair, but then again it might be the eyes.

I get rabid when people I’m with linger over dinner with their double espressos and stretched-out table talk – threatening to compromise my night appointment with Grey’s Anatomy. I drive like a maniac to get home quick, plowing through the streets, unmindful of pedestrians I may trample in the process – collateral damage, I tell myself; nothing I can do about it; better a sentence of involuntary manslaughter than a case of utter frustration and severe withdrawal symptoms from missing a dose of McDreamy nights.

I asked myself why I had this obsession with McDreamy. I think I finally may have an answer: McDreamy is my escape from boredom, from stress, from work, from fear, from anxiety. I immerse myself in Grey’s Anatomy when I have deadlines to chase after. I buy time and procrastinate, always convincing myself it’s okay to take in just one episode for a quick glimpse at McDreamy – much like a runner’s stretch before the hundred-meter dash. I think about him when I’m stuck with people who aren’t stimulating enough or when I’m plagued with uncertainty and fear yet must appear brave.

It’s not McDreamy’s abundant crop of hair, nor is it his eyes, or anything else. It’s me. It’s my crutch for when I used to reach outside of myself for reinforcement to get through or achieve things I may not otherwise complete. Everyone needs a McDreamy.