Dear Mr. Darcy

Dear Mr Darcy

I wrote this as if I were applying for the advice of Miss Abby in her weekly column of ‘Dear Abby’.  Sitting down at my desk and modern typewriter, my article for Dear Abby would have been:

Dear Abby.
I’m a single woman who believes in Mr. Right. After many years of being single and enjoying life, I’ve grown tired of being known as Single Scarlett. I believe I’m ready for love and to be loved and in return, love someone back equally. Do you have advice on how I can meet someone?

Having been limited to 120 characters to discuss everything important, I decided to go with a safer alternative and that was writing a letter. As we have become a technology using society, a letter can often represent so many emotions, heart felt tender moments and can express the hidden depths of someone’s heart.  This results in my emotions being released alongside smudged ink and my heart’s hidden desires and dreams.

Talking about the past and present, have I bumped into you?

I only ask Mr. Darcy for I am simply curious. Have I previously bumped into you while I’ve gone about my daily life as a nursing student and have you been so close, that I could’ve reached out and touched your sleeve? So many questions that I wish to ask you and yet, I know you are out there somewhere and at the same time, so far away.

Maybe you are one of the gentlemen who board the same train as me and has sat next to me or across the aisle.  There is always the possibility you are someone I’ve glanced or smiled at before returning my gaze to the world outside of the window. Or my personal favourite, you could be the man who catches the same train as me and each time I see you, I glance down to see what shoes you’re wearing that day.

If you are him, do you own brown shoes?

As to transit, I know you are currently stuck somewhere.  I hope it isn’t busy as one would think and you aren’t walking endlessly around the terminal, hoping to find an escape route.  If so, is it presumptuous too blame the ability of being stuck or stranded for you not being able to locate me?  Or maybe you are discovering your own power and masculinity and therefore, this is the reason why we haven’t discovered one another.

It may be the fact, the map God and Life have given you is upside down and if you’re anything like me, we both cannot read a map to save our lives. As I’ve waited for the last four years, my GPS and map reading skills haven’t exactly pointed you out.  Besides, I think I’d have noticed a gentleman walking in front of me with a large exclamation mark over the top of his head.  Having said this, I suspect my future Husband may be a mail order Husband.

Mr. Darcy, you just so happen to be my mail order husband and after going through the catalogue every little girl gets presented some time in her life; I’ve picked out ‘what women really want’.  The answer is, you.

I simply and most utterly desire, you. 

Hopefully before I’m 50 and barren, please arrive via express post on the back of an upside down map.  If this is to be the case, you shall have an incredible story to tell. As I suspect, it shall be filled with self-advice having been discovered from previous relationships and the right amount of heart ache.  This heart ache will hopefully allow you to realise that the person right for you, just so happens to be standing in front of you.

In this case, this person also happens to be reading her version of an upside down map since clearly she appears to lack in the ability of being able to read a map.  Therefore, is also stuck in transit along side you and yet, both of us are so close but so far away from one another.  Mr. Darcy, I believe and know I am the woman of your dreams, desires and hopefully, fantasy.

As for you Mr. Darcy, you are the man of my ultimate fantasy and dreams.  So may you consider sharing this story with me?

Bracing myself to be bombarded with images of bouquets, people becoming engaged and relationship status being changed across social media; I spend yet another Valentine’s Day, alone. While I curl up on the couch with my tissue box, pathetic movie collection containing Bridget Jones’ Diary volumes 1 & 2, The Notebook and Sex And The City; please know one thing if you are reading this, Dearest Mr. Darcy.

I will continue waiting for you, until the last breath leaves my body. 

Mr. Darcy, Beethoven one wrote to his Immortal Beloved and this is our letter to you:

Good morning, on 7 July

Even in bed my ideas yearn towards you, my Immortal Beloved, here and there joyfully, then again sadly, awaiting from Fate, whether it will listen to us… You will get over it all the more as you know my faithfulness to you; never another one can own my heart, never — never!…. Your love made me the happiest and unhappiest at the same time. At my actual age I should need some continuity, sameness of life — can that exist under our circumstances?… Be calm — love me — today — yesterday.

Of your beloved

E

Ever thine.
Ever mine.
Ever ours.

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