‘Listen, he was kind of hot. He didn’t actually have a limp, he just walked around with a stick for a bit because he kicked a tree. No, he didn’t just randomnly kick a tree, he kicked a tree because he was angry with his mother. He’s 51. He’s a historian; a writer. Not published but so talented. And he was obsessed with me. Well, he wasn’t actually obsessed with me but I could just tell that he could be. Obsessed with me. Like can’t sleep at night, can’t eat, can’t work (oh no, he’s really hard-working, just not published), can’t function because of me. Well, he probably could sleep at night, and all day, because he’s just emailed saying that he has adrenal fatigue.’
The above came out of the mouth of an unusually brilliant 40 year-old lawyer. Incredibly happily married for 10 years to a man with whom she has extremely satisfying sex about three times a week. Thank God she stumbled across a slightly flaccid prospect rather than a genuine love addict or flashman type because Midiotic thinking is how lives are derailed. So the thing is, think the Midiotic thoughts, swim in the Midiotic Lake Mid. But don’t act. Not without the support of a good therapist. Or a couple of friends who don’t think enabling is amusing. Midiotic romantic notions always, always always pass. They are usually the residue of really early stuff. Deal with that before you fly into the arms of an unemployed limping Oedipus who’s too tired to catch you.