The Mr Darcy Complex
You know what.
The one thing that I have learnt through the years is that Mr Darcy doesn’t exist.
Yes, I am not totally stupid; I know he is a fictitious character created by the genius mind that is Jane Austen. What I mean is the ideas he represents and the thin possibility of there ever being a real version of him. A man who is educated, dignified and begins by being a total arse then ending up being the man of your dreams. I seem to just end up with the arses and no dreams, no matter how dreamy there arse may be.
Sorry Jane Austen lovers, she’s talking utter rubbish.
Reading Pride and Prejudice instilled hope into me the idea that one day there will be a man who will see you as his one and only. Well, I am yet to find my elusive tall, dark, handsome Mr Darcy. It has however entered my life so much that I am pretty sure it’s become some sort of mission to track him down and hope to hell he appreciates banter and Austen as much as I do. I’m not the only woman on this mission either. Take my friend Twix for example, she is unfortunately one of those women who cannot for the life of her hold a man down, even if she tried, she has no upper body strength. Being brought up on happily ever afters (I blame Disney) and the idea of the knight in shining armour being the one to save us is something I think is widely acknowledged a bit too frequently. I often wonder why the Mr Darcy figure is so appealing, and why it has sparked off the need to find him. My own view is that he is the figure we love to hate and that some women feel that they can change for the better. He’s the handsome boy with the guitar in college which you find attractive yet his arrogance annoys the hell out of you. I have recently discovered that this “condition” is aptly named “the Mr Darcy Complex” which my friend Twix is very much afflicted by. She is convinced that her Mr Darcy or “Prince Charming” as she like to call him is still galloping his way round, trying on the glass slipper with any other women before he finds her. In the mean time, she tries to find him herself and it always ends in disaster, resulting in what she calls a “Crisis”.
“ABBIE!” shouted Twix falling through the front door, dropping the several bags which were stuffed in her hands. The usual purple beret she plonks on top of her head slid over her windswept face, with her usual eccentric scarf half way down her knees.
“ABBBIIIEEEE! Where are you? I need help! POTENTIAL CRISIS!” Now, upon hearing these words, I had two options. One, hide under the table and hope she didn’t find me, became a bit sulky and goes. Or two, get a Twix from the emergency stash behind my wardrobe and prepare for potential tears. Twix is called Twix as it is her “Crisis” food of choice, “if in doubt or in peril eat a Twix” she likes to say. That day I felt the latter would be fine as there were no tears, yet. Grabbing a Twix from the stash I headed to the lounge.
“I’m in the lounge, what’s happened now?” I sighed, shuffling my books around and taking a seat on the slightly tea stained sofa.
“Are you still in your pyjamas?” She said hitting the switch for the kettle and dumping her bags next to me.
“It’s my day off and if I want a day in my pyjamas around the house then I shall do just that. Now, what’s all this rubbish about yet another “Crisis”” I replied moving her bags to the floor.
“This is totally going to get you a potential boyfriend, isn’t it Abbie,” Twix stated, grabbing teabags and mugs from various shelves, I swear she knows my flat better than I do sometimes.
She then began the “Crisis” tale, “Well, you know how I told you I met that guy called Steve in Skint the other night?”
“Ah yes, that classy establishment,” I replied, propping my head on my arm hoping it wasn’t going to be a long story.
“Shut up, Saturdays means every drink is a pound and don’t knock it you like it when you are drunk.”
“Yeah, when I am drunk!” I interrupted.
“SHUSH NOW! Anyway you remember Steve, tall, blonde, green eyes, rather lovely. Well we got a bit tipsy and kissed which was amazing. Well, that night I got his number and I text him the next day but I didn’t get a reply. So I thought I would call him and he didn’t pick up so I left him an answer phone message. Well, I got a phone call back off him, and he said he was moving to Thailand on Tuesday, which would have been yesterday, yet when looking round town today I saw him buying a latte with some tall dark gorgeous girl. I just don’t know what to do; I think he just wasn’t interested in me you know”
“Really and what gave you that impression? I got it from the lie about Thailand and the fact you actually saw him in town.” I replied. Twix plonked down the tea on top of my work, causing some tea to spill on it, sat down and began to cry. I have managed to multi-task in moments like this, so saving my work and comforting Twix was not a problem.
“Come on Twix,” I said handing her the emergency Twix and grabbing a tea towel to attempt to salvage what was left of my work on Frankenstein. “He just obviously wasn’t the one for you,”
“I know” She said, sniffling and wiping tears mixed with snot on a handkerchief. “I’ve just had enough you know, why can’t one man prove to me they aren’t all the same and what are you doing Abbie you are supposed to be listening to me rant” I was hanging my work on the radiator.
“What! You spilt tea on it! I need this for tomorrow”
“Seriously, if you put in as much effort to finding Mr Darcy as you did on your research then you would be married to a bloody billionaire by now!” Twix retorted taking a giant munch out of the chocolate.
“Alright Mrs Bennett, I’ll find someone, I’m just picky.” I replied. I must admit I am pretty picky. No one really hits the standards. My friend Liv keeps telling me to lower them, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. I want to find the one guy who is the tall, dark, handsome, arrogant, yet turns out lovely guy, but to be honest I think I am alright at the moment. I have fun when I want to obviously, but it doesn’t help that my friends have become obsessed with the Darcy idea and it’s a pretty hard thing not to catch to be honest. My brain tells me to be the independent figure, the one who doesn’t need Mr Darcy and the one who can prove my friends wrong about needing a man. However, my heart does love the idea of having someone and being in a relationship has been something that I have loved. Previous experience has not been kind to me.
“...So I said to Liv, Jess and Rachel to be over about seven does that sound good to you?” Twix said, draining the last of her tea she stared at me blankly.
“Wine club?” I asked, looking a bit blank.
“Yes,” Twix paused, scanning me with her heavily massacred eyes. “You were thinking about him again weren’t you?”
By Abigail Barton :) (Yes that's my real name :P)
So? Any thought? Let me know :)
No comments:
Post a Comment