My Mr Darcy

Isn't it funny how we've gotten so desperately attached to our technological gadgets? Seriously, I couldn't imagine living without my cellphone... as pathetic as that might sound. Doubt I'd even know how to operate a payphone now - especially since I can't recall anyone's number.

For the past few days, I've maintained my strict moratorium on Big Bicep Barry avoidance. Struggling to repress all my manipulative instincts, I pledged to do absolutely nothing unless he makes a move of any sort. Trust me, making a decision to avoid a man is simply useless if he isn't around to avoid in the first place. It didn't help much that I didn't receive a single message or call from him for days - actually it grated me like hell and I spent a day or two busy cursing and wailing his name to the heavens, tearing his spotless reputation to shreds and swearing over jugs of alcohol like a drunken sailor.

The poor blameless guy.

Just yesterday afternoon however, I suddenly received a frenetic flurry of messages from an unknown number - and a desperate, breathless call that I'd have attributed to a raging sex offender if I hadn't recognized Barry's voice. Then again, it might have been a significant improvement if he'd turned out to be a sexual deviant! Due to some odd technical fault, his cellphone turned out to be out of commission for several days and he had to take the time to track down my number ( my number was listed in his telephone bill btw ) to call me from work.

A thousand apologies was called for - though I know it wasn't due to any fault of his - and to mollify me, he agreed to accompany me to see one of my favourite books adapted to film ( despite not knowing what the hell the movie was all about ). Like a death row prisoner trudging to his execution, he tagged along to Pride and Prejudice. Definitely a chick flick. I have to admit it was a little odd to have two single guys ( one big guy with broad shoulders in a sleeveless Abercrombie tee and a much slighter guy in a fetching green shirt ) walk into a cinema full of henna-dyed matrons/schoolmarms and adoring couples more interested in undoing their buttons than the film. Still, with Keira Knightley's luminous Elizabeth Bennet lighting up the screen, I doubt they had much time to stare at the odd couple sitting in the centre row.

Despite feeling a little under the weather - and a little woozy from the meds, the beautifully scripted movie managed to keep me wide awake. Although I spent countless minutes ogling the heroic looking Matthew MacFadyen who played the plum role of Mr Darcy ( who doesn't fall for the serious, passionate suitor? ), I did take the time to admire Barry's cute profile in the flickering light. Although the man claimed to have loved the movie, I did notice him almost nodding off at some of the slower moments - to have me nudge him in the ribs at opportune moments.

Inspired by the movie, this is for Barry if he ever reads this...
“You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last October, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Damn. Fitzwilliam Darcy was smooth.