The Agreement

So, as much as it pains me to admit it, in mid-September I took the plunge. Yes, I joined a Catholic dating site. Cheesy, lame, ridiculous--go ahead, call it what you will. But my reasons for joining seemed legitimate enough. I was in search of the holy grail of males and, quite frankly, sick of the lack of decent young men in living in the area surrounding...Longbourn. Yes, that's where I live. Or at least, that's where I live within the limits of this blog. Another reason for joining the site was really to "see who/what was out there" as far as good, Catholic men go; I wasn't there to start anything "serious." Besides, creating one of those profiles is always good for a laugh. “Please explain your body type,” was one of the queries on the profile. “Well-proportioned,” “Athletic,” “Thick,” “Voluptuous,” and the always-acquitting “Prefer Not to Say” were just some of the options.

Back to the point.

Mortimer Ronald Collins--we’ll call him “MoRon” for short--contacted me and we started to have a few chats. He seemed like a nice enough guy; 23, almost finished with his Masters in Physics, and from the looks of it, coming from a good, Catholic family. Although it wasn’t quite what I was looking for, things started to get a bit more serious than I had expected. I told MoRon that I didn’t quite like the idea of communicating over the internet as our main source of connection; if I was going to enter into a relationship, it wasn’t going to be over an LCD screen. We agreed to write letters to get to know one another better—with the understanding that we would remain friends. For some reason, it seemed like I was the only one who really understood that.

MoRon’s first letter came. I was pretty excited, as I used to be an avid letter-writer before life got in the way, and I was interested to see his writing style. MoRon was an incredibly smart man, but was in no way sensible.

“Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, and the deficiency of nature had been but little assisted by education or society.” –Chapter 15

It was true. Mr. Collins’ cousin was not as astute as he believed himself to be, but education and society had been quite good to him. In the first letter he told me that his father had obtained two PhD’s and his sister had graduated just last year from Harvard. Although education isn’t the biggest of deals in a relationship, I sensed that it was for MoRon, especially after hearing that. I felt like a Bennet sister—me with the lowliest of educations (community college) and Miss Caroline Bingley here (his sister) accomplishing high marks at finishing school. Lady Catherine would approve.

MoRon continued to explain his family life, his faith, blah-blah-blah. The entire letter was written in the most eloquent of ways and a particular section of it was the true indicator of MoRon’s relation to William Collins.

“Writing is precious; I desire your company. From what I have seen of you, there is beauty and charm. For this, in addition to your faith, I admire you. To be honest, my heart is captivated by the idea of you.”

Just a bit surprising for just being friends? I think so.

Until next time, readers.

The Beginning

It is a truth universally acknowledged that the world has yet to stumble upon Mr. Darcy. Oh yes, you know of whom I speak--that tall, dark, handsome specimen with brooding eyes...eyes that can sparkle one moment and simmer the next, forcing the butterflies in your stomach to go wild. But it's not just his smoldering eyes! No, this action figure comes complete with a personality like none other. Domineering, yet sensitive; serious, and somehow playful. With qualities such as these, it's a wonder that we haven't given up the hunt.

But to me it makes no sense. Since the release of Jane Austen's exalted publication of Pride and Prejudice, hormonal women (young and old) have been on the constant look-out for Mr. Dahhhcy. We pass the silly, girlish tradition on from generation to generation, hoping that someday the holy grail of males will be discovered. If you are one of these women (which I think we all are, even if some of us hate to admit it), I have one question for you.


What about Mr. Collins?


Okay, okay--I kind of pulled the rug from under your fantastical feetish *ahem* fetish. But think about it. You snickered to yourselves whenever Mr. Collins made an awkward comment or tried too hard. His attitude domineering, yet hardly sensitive, made it hilariously uncomfortable for any respectable Austen character to keep a straight face themselves. And let's face it--Mr. Collins' eyes were nothing special; I always imagined them as beady rat eyes just biding their time until seizing sight of the perfect piece of Gouda. But I digress.
Can't you see? The quest for Mr. Darcy has yet to fail, but what we need to understand is that the holy grail of males is as rare as the Monty Python of buffoons. I had yet to find someone so pious, assuming, arrogant, and erudite as Mr. William Collins.

...Until mid-September rolled along.
My dear Lizzie Bennet, you were right. Perhaps Mr. Collins has a cousin.


The purpose of this blog is to tell the story of how I found Mr. Collins' relation and our intriguing relationship together. I will post as often as I can. Until next time, remember:

"Stupid men are the only ones worth knowing after all." -- Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth Bennet, Chapter 27.