Pride and Prejudice and Provo

We're all well familiar with Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. With each reading of this beloved classic, I cherish it more. In my latest reading, I couldn't help but realize some familiarity. This familiarity did not stem from knowing the plot nor the characters - that would have been too simple! No, this familiarity came from the gradual realization that I have lived this culture!

I spent 5 years at BYU in a whirlwind of 1800s-esque English dating. Marriage is of the utmost importance. And oh right, education as well?

Such a frenzy of dating occurred, that at one point, it was required that I maintain an Excel spreadsheet with each interest's name followed by a short anecdote to help me keep the Matthews separate from the Marks, Lukes, and Johns. I have since learned to sift through the ample supply of gentlemen and have since focused my dating habits considerably. Who knew the superfluous supply of suitors would encourage me to get more out of literature?

Because clearly, all returned missionaries are in want of a wife!

A good portion of the Excel spreadsheet contained sweet-spirited men. You know the kind that you just can't see yourself with, but they're nice and you do your best to have a great evening. 

You return from your 47 minutes of frozen yogurt (you'll soon see why I abhor this popular activity) with little to report to the roommates. The conversation was paltry and after he informed you that your desire to go into dentistry was 'remarkably boring' you found yourself pleading to have him tell you more about the different kinds of sand (he, being a geology major and will rattle away ad nauseam. Anything to keep the conversation going, people). He tucked his shirt into his jeans in such a manner that reminded you of Mr. Henry who dropped you and your best friend - his daughter - off at ballet lessons where you exhibited the most refined skills in dance with your awkward and uncoordinated 5-year-old limbs. But he was very kind and you appreciated his time and effort (and money. I always feel badly about that).

You realize, that you were just introduced to Mr. Collins. And if you were fortunate,  able to avoid a proposal of marriage because it would make his patroness (or his bishop or the entire religious head) happy. One of my dear friends rejected a proposal of going steady from a Mr. Collins who, after taking her up to the temple (strike one), importuned her to follow Jesus (sacrilegious strike two) take a leap of faith and choose him, and not follow Satan and be single (major strike three. Seriously, sir?)

As you continue through the follies of youthful dating, you gradually begin to make wiser decisions. But at present, you are in the Lydia Bennet stage of dating.

As you attended your first bridal shower in the basement of the dorms (classy) during the spring of your freshman year, you find it difficult to fathom settling down at so young an age! You haven't secured ALL the men yet! You put on your finest white t-shirt below that scandalous tank top and head to the Cougareat (pronounced Coo-GARE-ee-aht). There you find the men in that Taco Bell line. After your phone number has been secured by a hungry lad, you suddenly remember that you have a TA review session to attend (right, we are trying to achieve higher levels of knowledge). The TA then asks for your phone number (I don't even know if that is legal and after my own TA position of 7 semesters, I still have no idea. But I was savvy enough to not date any of my students.) You go on the date with the TA to that indoor climbing place and get your hands all nice and gross from the handholds. In accordance to the added microbial flora, you wind up dating the climbing instructor. Who happens to be....

Mr. Wickham!

At this tender age, you know nothing of self-respect (you are desperately missing your missionary and need to pass the time!) Your boyfriend tells you 'You know, sometimes it's kinda cool and kinda annoying that you think for yourself' followed by 'The silence between us has gotten really great.' and for some unfathomable reason you do not kick his darling arse to the street.

Self-respect will embed itself into your character after you get hurt a few more times (as you eventually learn that the bad boys just aren't worth it!) 

Beware the Miss Bingley's of dating - even to the extent that you do not become one! It is inevitable that your heart will be rejected, but do something more constructive than being the demon of the dinner party. Like yoga. 

You continue to grow and hopefully figure out who you are. 

Now blemished with the disgrace of being sans ring at age 21, you pay more heed to society's imploring you to get on with it! Children don't just come into this world on their own, now do they? 

Unfortunately by this time, you are not as easy to date. You have finally garnered some charisma, dignity, and courage to stick to your expectations. Although every burst of warm weather brings a barrage of dozens of engagement notifications to your FaceSpace, you are unmoved. You have accomplished some things and expect some equal yoking! Congratulations! You have now reached the stage of dating Elizabeth Bennet style. 

You are told that you are intimidating with your eye contact and ambition. You see nothing wrong with that! Suddenly, you embark on dating with a purpose and artfully evade the Mr. Collinses (but sadly, not the frozen yogurt). Occasionally, a gentleman catches your eye. You have a conversation with him of a topic of reasonable interest. You become intrigued as you learn that he has already accomplished two goals and presently has not one, not two, but THREE goals in the works. And the cherry on top - he is doing something that cannot be described as 'going into business' (I still have yet to figure out what 'going into business' means.) 

Certainly, courtship is not without its fair share of awkwardness like unto the FABULOUS lake scene:

There is great fumble-age over your words. You repeat your questions. Suddenly you become very aware of your hands. What do you do with your hands?! But hopefully you are wearing clothes (in fact, you should ALWAYS BE WEARING CLOTHES during courtship.)

If you're lucky, your interest will see past your quirkiness and might actually find it endearing that your eyes glaze over and you begin to think about Ann Taylor Loft when he describes what happened in that one game where a team played a sport  (I DID once find a man that did just this. (I'm trying to get better about it. Honest. I even bought a basketball to increase my appreciation and not feel so left out. That story for another time.)) 

So there you have it. My frivolous thoughts on a real-life application to this wonderful classic. I'm sure you can find your own Pride and Prejudice experiences. Cheer up - yes, dating is all very very vexing, but people have been getting through this exquisite silliness for centuries. Next up, The Picture of Dorian Gray. Loooove it. 

Dearest Readers, if you get one thing out of this, let it be the following: 

No more frozen yogurt. Please, have some compassion on my poor nerves, as Mrs. Bennet would say. How about getting some pie?

All photos and videos were used without permission from the BBC installment of Pride and Prejudice in 1995. I am much obliged.