Friday, November 14, 2008
Darcy, O Darcy, Wherefore Art Thou, My Hunka-hunka?
It has been brought to my attention by my friend Becky (and in all fairness, by my friends Julie N. and Julie R. and Alicia and Jen and Melissa L and Melissa D....we'll just stop there before I get depressed) that I am a bit lacking in the romance department.
We're not talking the actual romance department, in which case my response would be a big, fat DUH, since it's only been a few months since the Man Formerly Known as My Husband officially became the Man Formerly Known as My Husband instead of my actual Husband. Since I plan to start looking for the Man Who Will Be My Forever Husband in approximately forty years--or the onset of the Millenium, whichever comes first--it would be safe to describe my life as void of romance.
However, the romance my friends are referring to is the fictional variety, the type that has 99.9% of the fairer sex swooning over Darcy and his fellow lover-boys. For some bizarre reason I'm lacking that Jane Austen gene.
I've never worried about this teeny little character deficiency until today. Becky asked what other romantic heroes I have, from any other books, and I was stumped. I've been racking my brain all day and I still can't think of a single literary hunkaburninglove, out of the thousands and thousands of books crammed into this brain of mine over the 29 years I've been alive and on the planet. Or has it been 27? Michelle worked it all out for me the other night.
This is a concern. How will I know what I want in The Man Who Will Be My Forever Husband if I can't even point to a pretend, made-up Romantic Ideal and say, "That! I like that! I'll take one of those to go, please!"
Here's my plan: since I have approximately forty years to figure this out, the reading begins now. I just went to the library and brought home three JA novels. I believe I mentioned in an earlier post how I'd rather have a colonoscopy than read JA again. Still thinking that. Bring on the snake tube. But hey--29 year olds don't get routine colonoscopies, so I'm stuck with JA. I'm appealing to all my friends here--please, please give me some romantic book suggestions that might actually work, that might actually make me think "oohlala" and feel all twitterpated. I need a LOOOOOONG list to get through 40 years.
On or before November 14, 2048 I will get back to you with my discoveries. Until then, here is some nice eye candy, which reassures me that I am capable of thinking "oohlala," given the right impetus.