I'm Scared of Bridget Jones

Come the fuck on, Bridget.

I first watched Bridget Jones’ Diary when I was sixteen-ish. I’ll be honest, it took me about four tries to get past the cringe, but I eventually sat down at a friend’s house and we watched it and laughed, swooned at Colin Firth, scowled at Hugh Grant, and I thought to myself, God, I hope that won’t be me.

I’m not sure specifically what it was that made me worry. Maybe the fact that no matter how hard she tried, Bridget never seemed to be wholly satisfied or comfortable with herself. Her decisions regarding men were, frankly, terrible. Then there’s the endless embarrassing moments that haunted her every move. Call her what you want, but aspirational is not it.

Eight years later, here I am, the most single Pringle in the tube, accidentally saying the wrong thing at work a little too loudly, making plans with friends that inevitably fall through, swapping thongs for briefs, and hoovering for fun. Every Sunday is the night before I get my life together.

You know when people say that if you’re scared of something, it will attract it to you? It appears that may be what has happened here. They say the only way to stop being afraid of something is to face it, but I can confirm, results may vary!

Part of it for me is that Bridget Jones’ Diary is a product of its time. The film was released in 2001, before I’d even learnt how to control my bladder. This means that the jokes about Bridget’s weight and the workplace flirting falls flat, and her self-consciousness is disheartening more than relatable. My favourite of the three films (so far) is actually Bridget Jones’ Baby, partly because I appreciate that as a character, she seems to have found a way to like herself in a way that she didn’t in the first film. Also, both of her romantic interests have respect and admiration for her.

There is actually a lot to admire about Bridget: she is intelligent, successful, doesn’t rely on men to make her happy, has a group of lovely friends, the list goes on. This is juxtaposed, however, in the way that she is constantly shamed and poked at for being who she is. Her successes are insignificant because she doesn’t fit in to the category of ‘traditional woman’. In the words of Mr Darcy himself, she is a "verbally incontinent spinster who smokes like a chimney, drinks like a fish and dresses like her mother". Remind me why he’s the ideal man?

Fortunately, I am not critiqued in the way that Bridget is. Bar the odd inappropriate comment about my weight or relationship status, I generally go unscathed as far as others’ opinions of me go. Nobody else is putting pressure on me to tick boxes. That, I fear, is coming from myself.

There aren’t many feelings more claustrophobic than the feeling of being left behind. When people around you are getting married, buying their first homes, having children, getting promotions, and you are seemingly standing still, it can feel like life is underwhelming. Or, that you are underwhelming. You begin to ask yourself, what’s wrong with me?, or why don’t I have these things that everyone else seems to find so easily? Honestly, if I hear one more comment about being the “cool aunt”, you’ll have to catch these hands!!!!

The answer that usually follows is that there is no right or wrong path, which is true, and that there’s nothing wrong with you, which is also true. But none of these things put a plaster on the sense of isolation that you feel in the meantime. I think this might have been why Bridget never seemed to be totally okay with herself. She was constantly being told, and affirming to herself, that she was getting it wrong. There was always something to be ‘fixed’.

I don’t think we’re supposed to want to be Bridget. We’re supposed to cringe at her, feel sorry for her, feel tingly in our hearts when Mark Darcy tells her that despite all her flaws and even though he shouldn’t really, he actually still likes her. Would you believe it!! Isn’t he a godsend?!

And if we’re not supposed to want to be like Bridget, how are we meant to feel when we inevitably do end up being and feeling just like her?

So, is Bridget Jones still relatable? Absolutely she is. At her core, she is a normal woman just trying to figure it out as she goes along. However, the way we perceive her is all wrong. Connotations of Bridget include “alone” and “verbally incontinent spinster”. She is neither of these things. Lauren Morris writes,

‘Career-wise, Bridget isn't just surviving but thriving, with her large Borough Market flat above The Globe Tavern pub (which she'd have bought for approximately £190,000 according to Time Out) and her job at a successful publishing company, where she rubs shoulders with the likes of Salman Rushdie and Lord Jeffrey Archer. Yes, she may embarrass herself at the odd Christmas party or stumble through a speech at an important work event but who hasn't? Then, when she decides to quit and tells sleaze ball Daniel Cleaver she'd rather "have a job wiping Saddam Hussein's arse" than stay (there go her chances of a decent reference), she walks straight into her first TV presenting job at Sit Up Britain – a GMB-style national news show – where she covers important human rights trials despite her limited current affairs knowledge.’

I have long shamed myself for my shared traits with Bridget, but I think it’s time I reframe. Don’t you?