Self-Analysis:

Darcy Phillips

Did my parents fail to respond to my crying as an infant? Probably. I remember when How I Met Your Mother was on, Mom and Dad would flat-out refuse to let me talk as a kid. I had to go to my room. Well, now look, you guys made me terrified of vulnerability, thanks a lot! Assholes.

I do start feeling panicky when I think someone wants to kiss me. Remember Sara in eighth grade? If she’d tried, I might have bitten her tongue off I was so stressed out. All because my parents wouldn’t take two seconds away from watching their stupid sitcom to parent me my whole infancy. Wow. Really, it’s a miracle I survived this long.

Has a fearful avoidant attachment style?

Probably needs therapy.

Definitely needs a hug.

Ainsley knocked on the door and poked her head around the gap. “Want some Phish Food?”

I met her eyes with a pitiful frown and pressed my hands together, waving them like a fish swimming, like we’d done as kids. She rushed in with a mostly full pint, sat cross-legged on the bed, and handed me a spoon. Mom, presumably, was grading papers or something. She hadn’t noticed me holing up in my room to mope, in any case. She hadn’t even noticed I hadn’t grabbed any leftover casserole from the fridge for dinner.

While I dug through for a chunk of marshmallow fluff, Ainsley glanced at my notebook. “You did a profile on yourself?” she asked, reaching for it.

I nodded and stuffed an overloaded spoon of ice cream in my mouth. “I’ve been reflecting,” I said through a mouthful of goo.

“I can see that,” she said, scanning through the words. “They were assholes about How I Met Your Mother.”

“Right?” I asked, passing her the pint. “And now I’m damaged. Which is great.”

“You should sue,” she agreed, then bit her tongue in a goofy smile. “So, explain this one to me?”

“It’s kind of like a mixture between anxious and dismissive-avoidant attachment,” I said. “It’s rare.”

“Like you!”

“Thank you. Basically, they’re ambivalent. They want to be close to people, but they’re also really scared of being close to people. And their emotions go all scrambled, and they want to be closer and further away at the same time. Like, if you feel rejected, you want to get closer, but then when it’s all working out, you suddenly feel trapped.”

Ainsley stared at me in amusement, then something like thoughtful contemplation crossed her face. “Well, it’d explain Brooke, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been obsessed with her for ages. You never felt trapped, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, she wasn’t into you. No offense. So you were always in the ‘I want to get closer’ phase, right?”

I stared at her. “Oh my god. You’re a genius.”