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It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr. Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It’s like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting “Cathy” and banging your head against a tree.
Because actually, Woney, underneath my clothes, my entire body is covered in scales. But
By this time I’d had a good half-pint of ’82 Pauillac myself. “Is it one in three marriages that end in divorce now or one in two?” I slurred with a pointless attempt at sarcasm.
Oh God, oh God. Maybe he’s fallen in love in New York and stayed there.
LOL foreshadowing
Rang Jamie again and got twenty seconds of Bruce Springsteen and then Jamie growling, “Baby, I was born to run . . . out of time on the answerphone.”
Inside it said, “A piece of ridiculous and meaningless commercial exploitation—for my darling little frigid cow.”
i know daniel cleaver sucks but this is actually kinda nice
Wise people will say Daniel should like me just as I am, but I am a child of Cosmopolitan culture, have been traumatized by supermodels and too many quizzes and know that neither my personality nor my body is up to it if left to its own devices. I can’t take the pressure. I am going to cancel and spend the evening eating doughnuts in a cardigan with egg on it.
I suddenly realize everything has shifted and now I am looking after my parents instead of them looking after me, which seems unnatural and wrong. Surely I am not that old?
Sink into morbid, cynical reflection on how much romantic heartbreak is to do with ego and miffed pride rather than actual loss,
It’s no good. When someone leaves you, apart from missing them, apart from the fact that the whole little world you’ve created together collapses, and that everything you see or do reminds you of them, the worst is the thought that they tried you out and, in the end, the whole sum of parts adds up to you got stamped REJECT by the one you love.
If that man turns out to be singlehandedly responsible for all the fighting in Bosnia, I wouldn’t be in the least surprised.”
“I’m thinking Hugh Grant. I’m thinking Elizabeth Hurley. I’m thinking how come two months on they’re still together. I’m thinking how come he gets away with it. That’s it! How does a man with a girlfriend with looks like Elizabeth Hurley have a blow job from a prostitute on a public highway and get away with it? What happened to hell hath no fury?”
“Daniel,” she exploded. “You selfish, self-indulgent, manipulative, emotional blackmailer. It was you—for God’s sake—who chucked her. So you can just bloody well put up with it.” Suddenly think I might love Perpetua, though not in a lesbian way.
Yass
“Oh yes, I quite agree it’s much the best to go for younger partners,” I burst out, airily. “Men in their thirties are such bores with their hang-ups and obsessive delusions that all women are trying to trap them into marriage. These days I’m only really interested in men in their early twenties. They’re so much better able to . . . well, you know . . .”
That is precisely my feeling about Darcy and Elizabeth. They are my chosen representatives in the field of shagging, or, rather, courtship. I do not, however, wish to see any actual goals. I would hate to see Darcy and Elizabeth in bed, smoking a cigarette afterwards. That would be unnatural and wrong and I would quickly lose interest.
Then we had a long discussion about the comparative merits of Mr. Darcy and Mark Darcy, both agreeing that Mr. Darcy was more attractive because he was ruder but that being imaginary was a disadvantage that could not be overlooked.
this is so funny considering who plays mark in the movie
I looked at him nonplussed. I realized that I have spent so many years being on a diet that the idea that you might actually need calories to survive has been completely wiped out of my consciousness.
