For over a decade, I have been in love with one man- Fitzwilliam Darcy. Real men have made appearances in my life, but no one has had the staying power of Mr. Darcy. I love him for so many reasons: his complexity, his nobleness, his dedication to love in the face of obstacles. Mr. Darcy is a complicated character. Upon initial introduction, I hated him. His condescension and pride were a definite turn off for me. But as with all good relationships in life, I learned to see past the façade to his true character and fell for the man who so nobly helped someone he loved, though he had no hope of an emotional return.
Recently, however, I have begun to stray from my love. In fact you could go so far as to say that I am cheating on Mr. Darcy. What makes my unfaithfulness worse is that fact that I am falling for 17 year old fictional character. These days it seems my heart belongs to Peeta Mellark. I know that a 17 year old character from the juvenile fiction series “The Hunger Games” seems like an odd departure from my 18th century cravat wearing aristocrat. I wasn’t looking for a new fictional idealized man, it just seemed to happen. What women wouldn’t fall for a man who has such a selfless, undying love? Is there really such a form of love that a man would give his life just to see a woman was safe. Sigh, gush, swoon.
Back in the real world, I have somehow developed a reputation as a bitter spinster hag who hates all forms of couple happiness. I don’t one hundred percent know how this happened, but it probably has something to do with the personal façade I have created to pretend I am not bothered by the fact that I have never had a love story. It’s hard to keep the bitterness at bay when you are a 28 year old woman who has never had her hand held in public, never been referred to as someone’s girlfriend, never received flowers and certainly never heard the ‘l-word’. But the truth is, I don’t hate love and romance. I am probably the biggest closet romantic you may ever meet. If you could only see how I cry in movies, or hear me pathetically sigh in novels, you would know. I think I have just given up on the idea that love will ever happen to me. Luckily, I now have two fictional lovers to fill the void.