Pride and Prejudice: About women foolishness

Having had a terrible day, which paradojically constitutes the very opposite of a terrific one, I finally managed to arrive to a friend´s house late in the afternoon, after ambling for a while trying to undestand the implausible events which had ocurred with the vertiginosity of an unexpected storm. My soul was wet as an indefense pidgeon.



Upon my arrival I could hardly mumble, briefly, that my spirit was momentaryly blocked by an unsusual type of disappointment. As I tend to reject reality believing what I wish, encounters with the truth are often devastating.

She gave me a hug. I felt the burden fell, soothing my soul. And understood that nothing should ever cause me to hate myself so badly again. I was touched with the light of innocence and purity of spirit, there was no room for hatred in me even if I had forced myself to feel it. Forgetting seemed the best choice.

We had planned to watch a movie, but after dinner we were so exahusted that we fell asleep after laughing a great deal of our own misfortunes, in the complicity of the greatest miracle: friendship.

 

The following day everything seemed fine again. Sleeping and detachment are the sweetest medicine. And then, we decided to play the movie. A love movie.


Was it masoquism...?


"Pride and Prejudice", a film based on Jane Austen´s novel.

As we watched it we wondered why men where no longer like Mr. Darcy. And we wondered why women had stopped being ladies. And about why girls who cannot simply be like the rest like she and I, keep believing that men like Mr. Darcy actually exist.
Why do we believe that men can truly behave in such and intense and romantic manner? That they still fight for love defeating any obstacle, that they can love silently and wait...
Why do we wait for them to appear in the saddest afternoon, ring our bell and tell us something like:
"You have bewitched me in mind and soul".


Is it that the shallow beauty of the body is more tempting than the deepness of mind and thus they are unble to commit themselves to one and only one? Is it that love which hurts is too complex and demanding that it is easier not to love? Is it that the heart of a man is not designed to aprehense the pleasures of romantic passion?
Is it possible that any obstacle is enough to cause them to desist from their pursuit? Which is, then, the strenght of their feeble conviction!??


Should we urge women to respect themselves and demand to be loved and not exposed? To be treated with admiration and awe in respect of their delicacy and tenderness? We are indeed miraculous creatures. We should all share the Bennet Pride.


We concluded that maybe we are the fools. Maybe the stories about princesses and dragons have polluted our heads since childhood and we could never overcome fairly tales mentality. It was foolish to believe in love. Mr. Darcy was never going to stab those dark deep eyes and change our lives forever.


It was the most cruel irony: so many guys flirting around and not even one true man.


Not even one true man left and two Elizabeths...


Yet, we both share a strong mind and an oceanic heart which, in spite of being wonded, can still manage to delight upon the wonders of the world.

We are in love with life. Two Elizabeths. She and I.