Mr. Darcy: How are you this evening, my dear?
Elizabeth Bennet: Very well... although I wish you would not call me "my dear."
Mr. Darcy: Why?
Elizabeth Bennet: Because it's what my father always calls my mother when he's cross about something.
Mr. Darcy: What endearments am I allowed?
Elizabeth Bennet: Well let me think..."Lizzie" for every day, "My Pearl" for Sundays..."
Mr. Darcy: And... what should I call you when I am cross? Mrs. Darcy...?
Elizabeth Bennet: No! No. You may only call me "Mrs. Darcy"... when you are completely, and perfectly, and incandescently happy.
Mr. Darcy: Then how are you this evening... Mrs. Darcy?
[kisses her on the forehead]
Mr. Darcy: Mrs. Darcy...
[kisses her on the right cheek]
Mr. Darcy: Mrs. Darcy...
[kisses her on the nose]
Mr. Darcy: Mrs. Darcy...
[kisses her on the left cheek]
Mr. Darcy: Mrs. Darcy...
[finally kisses her on the mouth]
Okay, watching Pride and Prejudice, with something steaming in a mug beside me, a candle burning in my periphery vision, a rollicking thunder storm erupting outside... ahhh... that's my idea of spending a few lovely hours.
So why, when my daughter wanted to watch Sense and Sensibility with me, was I less than excited? I was pleased as punch when we watched Little Women together.
After some soul-searching, I came to an uncomfortable conclusion. I didn't want to feel those "chick flick feelings" with my daughter in the room. The sighs and doe eyes over Mr. Darcy and Mr. Farris, whose dirty socks I will never have to wash. The adrenaline that surges over the electric exhanges between characters, their passion raging just beneath those button-down coats and proper dresses. The tears that fall when I hear Darcy speak the words so tenderly, "Dearest Lovliest Elizabeth..." I want to be Lizzie!
But something is just not right here. This article shed light on these thoughts I've been sharing. It is not for the faint-hearted...
http://blog.christianitytoday.com/women/2010/03/nick_waters_is_your_average.html
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