When I first write down the bullet points/takeaways from Dolly Alderton’s Good Material, I DID NOT expect to ended up reflecting on early 30s life lessons. Especially NOT from the perspective of the main male character, Andy, a self-absorbed, insecure, straight white man who spends most of the book whining about his breakup. But surprisingly I found myself concluded some reflections that feel….relatable.
The plot is simple: Andy, a 35-year-old stand up comedian, still waiting for his “big break”, recently broken up with his girlfriend of (almost) four years, Jen. He can’t accept it and becomes OBSESSED on figuring out why it happened. And of course it drives him mad. (I hope this is clear and not TMI).
It’s quite simple, but there are some lessons, particularly about who we are and what we tolerate as we move through our 20s into our 30s.
Why I might have dated him in my 20s:
Andy is objectively an attractive man. Well of course it’s all in my head because I could only picture it based on Dolly Alderton’s descriptions. But as I read through two, three chapters, I immediately pictured the sad-boy archetype: Paul Mescal in Normal People, Cooper Raiff, even Casey Affleck in some roles.
Image source: https://people.com/style/connells-chain-from-normal-people-is-up-for-auction/
He also comes across as fundamentally decent. A good guy. Of course, ‘good’ is very objective AND broad, but generally speaking Andy is the kind of guy you’d feel safe sitting next to at a bar. He tries to be respectful of women, and you could tell it’s from his upbringing, being raised by a single mother.
He’s charismatic, and he seems confident. Based on his life choices and how he presents himself, I know I would’ve been drawn in—especially because he feels “unlike the other guys.” Pursuing an unconventional path as a stand-up comedian makes him appear bold, and his gentle demeanor makes it easy to fall for the illusion that he’s different.
And most importantly, he LOVES The Beatles. No explanation needed 😌. From the book, I got the impression he leans more toward John Lennon (I’m not a Lennon girl myself), but I can totally picture sitting for hours debating who the real walrus was, or whether “Real Love” is actually more romantic than “Something.”
Why I’m glad I didn’t in my 30s:
While he is a genuinely good guy, deep down he has some SERIOUS insecurity and abandonment issues. And honestly, it’s exhausting dealing with someone who is constantly seeking validation and wallowing in self-pity. Especially the self-pitying part. Sure, in your early 20s it might come across as cute or even endearing (you know, being open on being vulnerable). But at some point, you’ve got to stop. You’re not the only person in this world with a “real problem.” Duh.
He’s ambitious, but he struggles to really make it as a stand-up comedian—or at least that’s how he sees himself. In his mid-30s, he convinces himself that Jen broke up with him because he was broke and unsuccessful. And so the cycle of self-pity and self-destruction begins: playing the victim, blaming the world for being cruel, insisting he didn’t get what he “deserved.” If I were Jen—or if I had ended up with Andy—I probably would’ve screamed in his face: The problem isn’t that you’re broke. The problem is your attitude. (Not that this is the healthiest way to communicate, but still, you get my point!)
And because of that unhealthy communication—and by extension, the unhealthy relationship—I know it would’ve made me or anyone as his partner, problematic, or even toxic, too. Just like how Jen becomes a worse version of herself (you’ll get there later in the end).