Retro Rants: Pride and Prejudice
Mr. Darcy Is A Creeper
In case you’ve already forgotten, Valentine’s Day was this week. While some celebrated with chaotic displays of love, romance, and passion (with perhaps, a smidge of corporate greed thrown into the mix for good measure) I ask you: what better way is there to truly honor the spirit of the holiday than (spoilers) taking a massive deuce on one of the most cherished love stories of all time?
Buckle Up Buttercup. You’re In For One Wild Ride
But lets not get ahead of ourselves. After all like every good romance story we need to set the scene a little before we get to the good stuff. Ahem: Once upon a time, dear reader, I was in high school.
Shocking I know. Truly the spirit of Billy Shakespeare doth flow through mine veins! (Bear with me here)
I liked to read and so my senior year I took the advanced English course (aka AP Lit) to better explore both the classics and the cute girls who were also in attendance. And, while we were indeed assigned many a piece of literature (some good and some bad) none quite so sizzled my biscuits as Pride and Prejudice.
Let me preface this by saying my thoughts below awarded me an honorific spot on our AP Lit class shirt (oh yes, dear reader, we made shirts) that stated “never go to John Carey for romantic advice.”
What caused such frank and baseless opinions about my wisdom regarding the realm of the heart? What could I possibly have done to have earned the ire of every single one of my classmates without a Y chromosome? I uttered five words, dear reader. Five fateful words. And, as it so happens, they are words I stand by to this day. What were they you may ask? Simple: Mr Darcy is a creeper.
Yes, I know some of you swooned over his dashing chiseled jaw and quiet words as you bloomed into adulthood. I also happen to know no small amount of you still do. I hate to take this last, small vestige of child-like innocence away from you but…this character is a fucking asshole and his relationship with the protagonist is entirely unbelievable.
If you managed to read that and not fall out of your chair while frothing at the mouth in impotent rage then congratulations! You’ve out-classed a bunch of lovesick high school girls. That also means you get to hear my reasoning (lucky you)
Now, in case you haven’t picked up on this by now, what you are about to read is not going to be an unbiased analysis. Mr Darcy is, and forever shall remain in my sight, a prick.
Are we good? Good enough? Alright.
Now then: this jackass is rude to Elizabeth Bennett as soon as he meets her, this we know. However, let’s look at this through a historical context, shall we? In England during this time period refusing to go to tea with someone was the equivalent of calling them an inbred fuckwad today. So, knowing that, one might say that shitting all over someone’s family back then whilst at a party would be a bit of a societal faux paus. With this in mind let’s break down the evolution of this relationship dynamic:
1. Guy walks up to girl and insults her mother, father, sister, and her and then fucks off.
2. Guy low-key stalks girl to figure out when she goes for a morning walk and then corners her in order to hand her a letter.
3. Girl is confused. Girl goes home and opens said letter only to find that inside the guy has fucking amortized the reasons why he is correct in stating that the girl’s family (whom she loves by the way) are, in fact, pieces of shit.
Now, here’s the kicker, dear reader: every girl I’ve ever talked to thinks this is romantic.
They are wrong.
If this happened to you in real life—as in right now, today—you’d get a restraining order against this dude so fast his ego would be blown out his asshole. And here’s the other thing, dear reader: after experiencing this masterclass in seduction Elizabeth actually admits he’s right! And girls think “well, duh! He’s right! He’s been so logical! She can’t help but see the error in her ways.”
Bull. Shit.
No woman with an iota of self-respect is ever going to have a man talk shit about them to their face, be stalked by said man, be handed his doctoral thesis wherein he mansplains why he was justified in shit talking her, and come out the other end thinking: “You know what? You’re right! Take me now—my body is ready.”
That is just some absurd make believe fuckery right there. Now I know some of you just got your jimmies rustled reading that but, please, don’t lie to yourself: you don’t actually like this character. You like his silver screen adaptations. I happen to know for an ironclad fact that the only reason at least two of you even thought you liked Mr. Darcy in the first place was because he was played by Colin Firth and you wanted to snuggle up against that cleft chin of his as you both rode off into the sunset above fields of English heather.
Why, there’s a reason Pride and Prejudice is in high school curriculums: because only someone dealing with body altering chemical imbalances as they metamorphize into an adult would be able to stomach this malarkey as unironic! I mean dear god, name one relationship in this entire book that isn’t toxic as hell! I’ve even heard it said that Jane Austen herself meant for this work to be a parody of sorts on the romance genre as a whole but if so that’s even worse because ya’all are out there taking it as seriously as death and taxes!
Phew! Okay that felt good to get off my chest.
I think…yeah I think I’m good. Not bitter at all. Totally chill.
The truth hurts, dear reader, I know. But when in doubt just remember this: Mr. Darcy is, and forever shall be, a Creeper.