Harriet Smithing and a bit of unabashed coquetry.
The unbiased opinion of a wise friend can be just what one needs. On Friday night instead of going out with all the men who had been clamoring to go out with me {hoards of men!}, I opted to stay in with the roommates {you don't believe me do you?} and I did something that I thought I would never do.
I am a writer of letters. Old-fashioned letters with stamps and envelopes, which I take personally to the post. There are very few things I like better than writing and receiving letters, which perhaps explains the multitude of missionaries I wrote to . . . And not only do I write letters, but I save every one I have ever received {which adds up to several boxes filled to the brim}.
As one is wont to do when not interested in any man in particular, I find that I often reminisce about the men in my past {not at all surprising coming from myself}. Hence I can sit and wonder why Mr. Cowboy or Dex {most prominently} married the girls they married. What made them choose these girls over myself? Sometimes it was only a fascinating topic to ponder, and other times it turned into a genuine pity party {wah, wah}. And sometimes, the letters would creep out of the boxes, just so I had something that made me feel like I had been admired once upon a time.
Back to Friday:
As I sat and talked with one of my roommates, I asked what she thought about my hoarding of the letters. "Burn them," she told me bluntly. Without batting an eye, I grabbed the letters and the matches and we started a small bonfire on the sidewalk outside our apartment with the mound of letters I had saved.
I had always imagined burning them. It seemed so fitting and a more romantic end to their scribbles. And it was another one of those relieving moments {that keep on keeping on} watching their words go up in smoke, because that's all their words turned out to be: smoke, shadow, nothing of substance. And in the most beautiful {and illegal} way, they were all gone.
Enough of the melancholy drama.
Curious about all the hubbub, and having an iPhone I rarely use except to check my email and the weather, I downloaded Tinder. And good heavens! Shameless, shameless flirting has been happening on my end. After the eventful burning on Friday, I spent most of my night texting random men who liked me purely for my stunning blue eyes, luscious brown hair, and charming smile {or so I was told} and it has been delightful. If the modern way to date means I can be at home on a Friday night in my sweats, watching a movie, and eating cheesecake while men tell me how beautiful and witty I am, well then that is basically my ideal world.
Tinder it up lovers of the world!
The Lady
2 comments:
Burning photographs is also quite fun. My roommate did that to a few photos of her ex. And then she burnt some dried flowers. (Don't ever do that; they smell nasty!)
Thought you all might want to see this. http://www.sscnet.ucla.edu/polisci/faculty/chwe/austen/
I read the first chapter and it was very interesting, and a little enlightening as well.
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