“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.”
Alright, Ms. Austen. I’ll do you one better.
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single woman in possession of a beating heart must be in want of a real love story. That’s why we love to read books by Jane Austen, the Bronte sisters, and even (as much as it makes me want to throw up) Stephenie Meyer. We want the great romance.
As much as I love these books, when the opportunity arises for me to embark on these great romances, I don’t exactly go for it.
I tell the guy, “Thanks, that’s so sweet!” and pat him on the arm when I get flowers.
I flirt with different guys when I go out at night instead of sticking with the one whose affections are obvious.
I tend to fall for the completely wrong set of guys, even though they’re all terribly nice…they’re just not right.
I pick the safe, sane option instead of running off and doing something crazy-romantic just for the hell of it.
Why do I do this? Because despite my love of Pride and Prejudice as well as my admiration for Elizabeth and her eventual romantic resolution, I’m stuck in Darcy-mode. I’m much more like the reserved, severe Fitzwilliam – so concerned with my future and doing the responsible thing that I don’t let myself truly enjoy life. Allow me to present some evidence.
“You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
Do you know how often I am either a) oblivious to or b) uninterested in the flirting that comes my way? A lot. More than normal, whatever that is.
I mean, yes, we all have those horror stories of the worst pick up lines ever, the guy who groped you (or maybe a little more) on the dance floor, and the atrocious first dates. That’s normal. But in my case, it’s not something that I’m interested in gaining a large quantity of experience in.
I tend to thumb my nose at people who approach me, unless I’m dealing with some liquid courage. And even then, I usually flirt a little and go home without incident – no harm, no foul. If I were at one of those dances, I would be sitting in the corner, making snide remarks about the different couples with one of my girlfriends.
A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment.
My imagination is quite active, I assure you. I can dream up the most ridiculous scenarios when given five minutes of free time.
One thing that it does not do is jump straight into relationship mode the minute I meet someone. I’ve known people who will meet a guy in a bar, give him their number, and the next thing I know, they’re picking out wedding colors…before the guy even calls.
I’m not this girl.
I’m the girl who meets a guy, falls in like, and then waits like half a year to even make a move. And then I’m STILL super-careful about how fast we’re moving, what it means, if we’re on the same page, etc.
I happen to think it’s a good thing, but every now and again I wish I had the ability to just jump in with both feet.
I do not have the talent of conversing easily with people I have never met before.
I would need an addendum to this statement to make it entirely true. I would need to add “in a romantic environment.”
I love meeting people when there’s absolutely no chance of there being a romantic link. I’ll goof around with my friends’ new flames, roll out the welcome mat for a new coworker, or shamelessly flirt with a guy who has the same taste in men as me.
But put me into a first-date situation…or worse, a random set-up, and I freeze.
Somehow, I end up talking about the size of my student loans or the different types of soaps that I have in my bathroom. And the poor guy’s just nodding along like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. Of course, I also tend to date men more awkward than I am, which means that instead of changing the topic to something more worthwhile, the guy will say, “Oh, that’s interesting. Tell me more about yourself.”
And it’s on to hand towels. (Mine are pretty baller with dinosaurs embroidered on them.) I guess it could be worse…
Yep. That’s worse.
“And of course she must improve her mind by extensive reading.”
I love to read.
I thought you guys already knew this.
I also like men who enjoy to read, and it’s definitely on my list of qualities for my dream guy.
Actually, it’s also on my “bare minimum“ list…right underneath being 18 or older.
“My good opinion, once lost, is lost forever.”
This is true. Perhaps it is the most true of me, out of all of the quotes.
I’m working on that whole “forgive and forget” thing. Really, I am. It’s like my therapist’s new project: teaching Erin the definition of forgiveness, and how to make it happen.
For years, I’ve told people, “I do forgive, I just don’t forget.” And in all honesty, I still feel that this is an accurate portrayal of my situation. My therapist disagrees. Ah, well. I’m sure in six months, I’ll be telling everyone how forgiving I am.
I will admit that, without a doubt, I don’t easily forgive and I never, ever forget. Otherwise, history is doomed to repeat itself. But many other people simply do not feel the same way, and it’s hard for them to understand my position.
This leads to problems. Take my recent friend-ectomy, for example.
It’s taking these friends a little longer than I thought to get the picture. Mind you, not all of them are oblivious, and their love of drama is causing them to act a little…less than adult. But I can deal with that. I work with middle schoolers, it’s something I deal with on a regular basis (I wonder why I decided I didn’t need that person in my life anymore, eh?).
What I can’t understand is when people act like, “Oh, it’s been a while, I’m sure she’s forgotten that I’m an awful friend, I’ll just text her and we’ll hang out again.”
Guess again, beeyotches. Not happening, no matter how many times you try. This is just more proof that all you ever needed me for was to use me.
I’m glad that Darcy and I have this trait in common. It’s protected me several times now, and what else can I say?
I’m just hoping that I’ll have a happy ending just like Mr. Darcy…after all, the story isn’t all about Elizabeth.