Call me, maybe.

Oh! Why hello there. Still swooning over how amazing and loyal and sensitive I can be from my last post? Awesome. Try to contain yourself, though. I am busy at work here, which is why it’s so cluttered. Sorry!

Do you mind passing me that spinny propeller thing? Great, thanks. And that monkey wrench?

Careful! Watch your step!

What am I doing? What does it look like I’m doing? Playing make-believe with crazy ol’ Maurice? NO! I’m building a time machine, silly!

I recently watched Midnight in Paris and completely fell in love with it. Like most human beings who’ve seen A Kid in King Arthur’s Court (how did that movie only get 4.5/10 stars?!), I’ve always wanted to travel back in time and try to baffle local residents with my Sony Walkman. Not unlike Owen Wilson’s character, I’d love to go back and meet my idol author– though mine is Jane Austen, not Ernest Hemingway.

Yes, I am in love with Austen-romance. Most specifically, I love Pride and Prejudice. So typical; so mainstream. I know. It’s like if I were to go into Krispy Kreme and only order their original glazed donuts, or if I met 98 Degrees and only make out with Nick Lachay, or fly to Paris and get frisky only under the Eiffel Tower. Sure, everyone’s done that, and sure, there’s more to life than glazed donuts, Nick Lachey, and getting cited for public indecency in France, but you know  what? There’s a reason everyone’s done it! It’s safe, never disappointing, and a rite of passage, just like P&P. I fear, however, that these same reasons are exactly why the Beastie always rolls her eyes (no smirk involved with this one) and tries to fake a heart attack or epileptic episode whenever I start droning on and on about why Mr. Darcy is the absolute most perfect man imaginable…

… but heeeeeeey, you haven’t heard this schpeel, right?! Awesome. You’re in for an amazing ride.

Okay, first things first: I’m kinda delusional about what makes a man “great.” While other members of my gender may look for kind eyes, or emotional commitment, or 6 pack abs and a Maclaren MP4-12C, the first thing I look for is someone who is articulate. As a linguistics minor (I know, I’m the whole package. You are not the first person to tell me this), I’ve always been in awe of the power of language. Language is like food– it’s something that can change the atmosphere of a room, bring people together, and be arranged and combined in endless possibilities.

Along the same lines, I find it super sexy when a man can command a room. He doesn’t have to have a booming voice, or be super tall (is that how some people command a room?), or anything, but just interesting and well traveled / informed / opinionated and most of all, engaging. Here comes the cheesiest thing I will ever write on this blog: if you can captivate an audience, you can captivate me. Ew, does that mean I’m kept in captivity? Whatever. You know what I mean. Darcy might be shy and not be “blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends” like Wickham, but just as many people look at Darcy when he enters a room as Cinderella when she enters the ball, and no one (but Lizzy) dares to challenge him when he’s speaking.

Lastly, it’s nice when a man upholds a certain air of mystery. What’s Darcy doing when he “goes to London” all the time? Why isn’t he ever in that freakin’ Dubai-king-slash-European-Drug-Warlord palace? It’s big enough for 10 Dugger families to live in, complete with its own hospital/delivery wing, if you know what I mean. I would never leave that place unless if I absolutely had to. So after intense research, I’ve concluded that there could only be one explanation: Darcy was the late 18th/ early 19th century British Batman. Only a Bruce Wayne character would leave their luxurious  palisades that often without anyone knowing why or where or when.

If there was respectable Pride and Prejudice fanfiction, I’d read it. Oh who am I kidding? I already do. Not internet, written by lustful 13-year-olds, scribed onto Xanga fanfiction, but at one point I discovered that there are a lot of published books parodying Ms Austen. Is “parodying” the right word? What’s the word that’s like parody + deference? Because that’s what I’m looking for. For instance, after I read Pride and Prejudice (for the 10th time), I read “Darcy’s Story,” which tells the exact same story, except for Mr. Darcy’s point of view. Pretty interesting, if you ask me. Point is, I cannot get enough of Austen-era romance, and because I was served Johnny Walker Blue Label at my work function earlier today, I feel badass and secure with myself enough to admit this on the interwebs.

So if you’re out there, Mr. Darcy-Batman…

here’s my number, so call me maybe.

(Ps, when I google-imaged a picture of “Crazy Old Maurice,” both a picture of Mitt Romney and Dana Scully popped up. Coincidence…?)

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