I finally understand Don Draper
I spent some time in the past month rewatching the TV series Mad Men.
During my rewatch, I had a few spatial memories from the first time I watched the show, which was a little over a decade ago.
I remember watching the show while sitting on my single bed in my narrow dorm room and glancing back and forth between the TV and the window, which was so high up that it overlooked just about every other building in the school.
I remember watching it at midnight in a break room while studying for a finals exam in the basement of one of those buildings, Robson Hall, where law students gathered for classes.
By the way, although I wasn’t a law student, I chose to study in that break room in Robson Hall because it was empty half the time; most of the law students were too ‘bougie’ to hang out in a ragged, run-down break room.
I remember watching the show back then and thinking about what it would be like to be a proper adult with responsibilities someday and face high-stakes situations and decisions like the ones the characters in the show found themselves.
Back then, my perspective of the characters, particularly the main character, Don Draper—played by Jon Hamm—wavered from slight adoration to pure disdain.
I was somewhat judgmental.
I couldn’t believe Draper, a man of such intellect, wits, and talent, would have so many flaws and, at times, behave selfishly. I didn’t understand why full-fledged adults, with means and lived experience, wouldn’t have the gall to say the right things to the right people at the right time.
For all the good things I liked about Draper, I disliked many of his actions and decisions and swore I couldn’t and wouldn’t be anything like him.
But 10 years later, as I rewatched the show, I saw Draper and many other characters in a completely different light. My perspective shifted from judgment to understanding.
For the first time, I saw far enough past his masculine demeanor, articulate speech, and abrasive personality to realize that behind all that confidence, strength, and success bundled up in one man was a child inflicted with trauma that needed tending.
I finally saw the massive weight he bore as a man and an adult with responsibilities, means, and power.
This time, I didn’t dislike his guts; I felt sad for him, and I probably did so because I now understand what it is like to be that man and adult who is responsible to their spouse, children, family, friends, clients, staff, colleagues, and communities. I now understand the imperfection that comes with filling those shoes and that regardless of how hard we try, we fall short sometimes.
I am about the same age that Draper was when the show began, and now, the show doesn’t seem like it’s just about some adult that I can’t relate to; it seems like it’s about me.
It's about how human, flawed, and fallible I can be. It’s about admitting that much.
Although I hope to never find myself in some of the dire situations that Draper found himself in, I, too, am prone to messing up.
I’m the same person who coaches fellow writers and ghostwrote four published books in the last 18 months but couldn’t bring himself to write to you in the last 3 months — partly because I was too fatigued from the plethora of projects on my lap, busy with some travel, and uncertain of the value, potency, and relevance of the letters I had intended to send you.
I’m the same person who sometimes raves and writes about community but can go months without checking on people I care about.
I’m also the same person who prides himself in having a calendared existence but can sometimes struggle with consistency, finishing things, and finishing well.
I’m flawed, and maybe you are too. However, in these moments, I have to learn not to condemn myself—like I did to Draper all those years—but move forward with an understanding that today’s the father of tomorrow.
Whoever (and however) I am today decides who I become tomorrow; as long as there’s a tomorrow, I can be better today.
In 10 years, I’ll probably give Mad Men another rewatch; I wonder what my perspective on Don Draper, the show, and myself would be then.
But one thing’s for sure: when I look back, I’ll remember rewatching it in the summer of 2024 in between meetings with clients, on the couch with my wife after putting our daughter to bed, flying home after seeing my sister for the first time in 8 years, and a few minutes ago before writing to you again.
I’ll remember.
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