My thoughts on Mr. Darcy

I, as all women, have had a love affair with one Mr. F. Darcy. He – tall, brooding, rich – is the archetype against which all men are judged either in a romance novel, a chick flick or from across the bar. Mr. Darcy is the man every woman wishes she could snag. (Coincidentally, despite all our dreams of being just like Elizabeth Bennet – smart, sassy and irresistibly sexy because of it – we fall into either the Caroline Bingley’s or Elizabeth Bennet’s of the world…but I digress…)

After 34 years of giving Mr. Darcy types the benefit of the doubt, my empathetic compassion and an understanding ear, I have come to one fundamental conclusion – Mr. Darcy was an asshole. Really, how many men – living, breathing men – can you count off who were crotchety, conceited jerks at first meeting but who ended up having hearts of gold with deep rivers of passionate emotion for you flowing under their icy surfaces? And, by the way, I don’t mean all those thoughts, feelings and un-acted upon desires that we project, infer or fantasize they are tormented over either.

My answer is none. Once a jerk, always a jerk.

I sound jaded, bitter and an all around bitch so of course no man would want to be around such a sour lemon of a woman, but I’m not in fact, I’m just the opposite. I am a friendly, flirty and fun girl who everyone wonders “why is she single?”. This question I can answer simply and succinctly: Because I have wasted my heart and emotions on the Mr. Darcy’s of the world. That is why I have vowed off boys for a year, why I have professed again and again that boys are a drug and I’m going cold turkey…except I had a relapse the other day…and this is my pep talk back onto that wagon…

I ended up thinking about the Mr. Darcy in my life – the crotchety jerk I’d met years ago who on very rare occasions showed me his heart only to turn to ice immediately afterward. I found myself wondering if, despite past experiences, he really did care, but just couldn’t figure out how to express himself. I pictured the wonderful, breath-taking, heart-stopping moment when he’d grab my hand as I went to leave, the way he’d stroke my face with his coarse hands and tell me he had been a fool – that he loved me.

I allowed myself to slip into the warm, hypnotizing pool of hope for an hour or two and then snapped myself back to reality and repeated the words “Mr. Darcy is an asshole” over and over again until I was more angry than melancholy and I didn’t want anything to do with any Mr. Darcy every again. No, there will be no Mr. Darcy’s, Ferrar’s, Willoughby’s or any other of dear Jane’s men (good, bad or tempting) in the rich world my head and my heart create.

I don’t want the romantic angst and self-doubt a Mr. Darcy creates – I’ll leave that to fiction – instead, I want a real man. A living, breathing man who let’s me know he wants me more often than not and who appreciates a smart, sassy and sexy woman such as myself…But then again, maybe such a man is even more of a fantasy than Mr. Darcy himself. Either way, it’s back on the wagon I go – that is, until I suffer from another, inevitable, romantic relapse.



Filed under Basics

8 responses to “My thoughts on Mr. Darcy

  1. Zev

    Take heart, darling — they ARE out there! Mine was just as sweet as he’s ever been, right from the start. 🙂 Good luck to you.

  2. L

    Well said! I never understood the fascination with Darcy (well, being a lesbian probably explains it). Most of the gals I know swoon over the character and want him in real life. But I always found myself wondering “Why? He was an ass for most of the story, and how often do you really find a guy that will change so dramatically?” One of my good friends had her heart broken by a total Darcy-type last year–he was smart, talented, but really just a total jerk. But since then she’s found a wonderful guy, still smart and talented, but without the arrogance and ego. You’ll find that fella too. =)

  3. nicholas

    well in answer to your plea of soul searching, we mr darcys do exist!!!! I for one consider myself to be one of them, and no, we dont ice over on confrontational matters of the heart. But hey, we too are in search of our elisabeth bennets too? Ok we may not have the words or quotations to make you weak at the knees, but like yourselves,we are true to our words, I maybe be no colin firth nor a hugh grant, but i have my own unique characteristics and my own little ways.

  4. sms29s66

    It isn’t his icy exterior that makes him an ass. It is that he loves her in spite of her unacceptable family and has the gall to tell her so. If’s that he had “sufficient reason” to interfere with Mr. Bingley and Jane. Jane Austin really screwed up with him.

  5. I have to be honest, nearly a year after posting this it’s still the number 1 search on my blog. My Mr. Darcy is (almost on his yearly cue) rearing once again but life has moved on and perspecitives have shifted. I still maintain that once an asshole always an asshole no matter how tempting.

  6. jhaysin

    Austen was a wise woman. She understood a fundamental truth about females and illustrates it’s perfectly in this story: Women love assholes and will choose them again and again over a nice guy.

    Here’s another female author who can explain it for you:

  7. No, not every woman wants a Mr. Darcy. This woman doesn’t. I love the A&E mini series with Colin Firth and have watched it several times. The one thing I have never ever understood is how he could so flatly insult Elizabeth and her family, totally interfere with Mr. Bingley’s and Jane’s happiness and yet still win her heart. I would have told him to go F$%# himself and never looked back. Well, not exactly. In so many eloquent words I would have proclaimed him wholly monstrous and lacking in all scruples in the realm of decency and kindness. 🙂

  8. Coppelia Jones.

    Could the problem possibly be that you are looking for a fictional character? I am not asking this to be snarky. I am thinking that possibly, books have these lovely fictional men in there because they are fiction, and not to be found at all in real life. I say this because my first fictional man was Joffrey De Peyrac from the Angelique series– intelligent, corresponded with scientists of the age, passionately in love with his woman– and while I consciously or no looked for him for years– sadly, never found him. Ditto, any man who would be verbal in bed– no, none of those either. So im wondering, why would so many romance novels be published if any woman actually had the goods? The answer is– they do not really exist. Never did.

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