difficulty finishing her book while staring at a 24-hour deadline.
Hannah’s inability to manage time could be interpreted as simply a
character trait; Marnie, for instance, is almost always on time.
Because Hannah is the focal character of the show, however, I
believe that her poor time-management skills merit consideration.
Alone, they may have be written off as a quirky aspect of Hannah’s
personality, but in conjunction with the other tropes that
undermine these women’s aptitude for things outside the home,
Hannah’s procrastination and inability to deal with the pressure
that come with her book deadline (a tendency that is later mirrored,
though less dramatically so, in her inability to spend her time
writing for graduate school) speak to an overall theme of
professionally incapable women.
Perhaps the most salient, and arguably the most anti-
feminist, narrative trope of Girls is the “inevitable heterosexual
coupling” that Vered and Humphreys discuss (158). I also
conceptualize this pattern as a white-knight trope wherein the
woman in Girls consistently experience crises or traumas that they
themselves are the root causes of and that are ultimately remedied
by the men in the series. At the end of the second season, Hannah
– who for much of this season asserts her independence from her
pining ex-boyfriend – breaks down from the pressure of her life
and is rescued from herself by Adam. Seemingly inevitable, Adam’s
return is just what Hannah needs to be productive again. This is
also evident during the third season when Hannah thrives under
Adam’s nurturing care. Even after her relationship with Adam
concludes in the fourth season, Hannah finds herself rescued by
her new boyfriend (and fellow teacher), Fran (Jake Lacy), who is
just the normal, well-adjusted man she needs. In fact, as the
epilogue to the fourth season indicates, it is in choosing Fran that
Hannah successfully moves on from her toxic relationship with