We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be.

3/30/2012 The Lady 0 Comments

Last night, I was at Love's Labor's Lost (if you were playing Anti-Austen Where's Waldo) with my roommates. We all sat there in our "singledom" witnessing a spectacle all about love in all its fickle intricacies. I propped myself up in my chair, judging the actors' performance critically with a keen eye (as I always do), but really wrapped up in my thoughts about how much easier it seemed to fall in love then, than it does now.

The men simply see the women, talk to them for a short time, and BAM! they are ready for courtship and marriage. Even taking the concept of this instant sort of love away from the arena of a Shakespeare play, and applying it to say . . . a random period of time such as the 1940's, it was still plausible! My own grandfather, saw my grandmother and knew in an instant that she was the one that he was going to marry. He proceeded to court her and within a year they were married. Easy peasy. Rice and cheesy.

Why doesn't his happen now?

Perhaps (I think this is true at least for myself), we as women, as not particularly looking to be swept up. We have plans. We have aspirations and ambition. We want to go somewhere. We are no longer limited to one sphere: the domestic. But even if we, as Latter Day Saint women, have the domestic sphere as our ultimate goal, we've become pessimistic and unwilling to believe that we could simply be swept up. We don't believe that it happens, so it doesn't happen. (Except for those naive freshmen, who get swept up and then judged by the rest of us spinsters. They obviously don't know what they're doing. Silly children).

Another reason may be that we've let our dear Jane get to our heads. (Once again: Me). We reserve the right to turn down proposals and turn down dates and all sorts of things. We are infused with this new womanly right. We want to be Elizabeth Bennet. To be that sort of woman with such character and wit and determination. Oh, to be Elizabeth Bennet! Perhaps we too quickly judge certain men to be Mr. Collinses or Wickhams or other "undesirables" before realizing that they may be Mr. Darcys or Colonel Brandons.

Alright, so the truth is, I don't exactly know what my point is. All I know is that now I'm looking to be swept up.

Con Amor,
The Lady

P.S. Go see Love's Labor's Lost! Tonight is the
last night. So if you find yourself in need of a
good play, with good acting, and mediocre
(bordering on horrible) accents, go see it!
I told you I was a harsh critic . . .