All posts tagged: Jane Austen

sexy breakfast in bed

Breakfast in Bed: The Final Frontier

Ladies and gentleman, we’ve had a break through.  It all started Sunday morning when I found myself snuggled in bed with The Wedding Date for the third installment of the 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries. (Yes, we’re watching Jane Austen together.  It was part of the deal I made to watch Star Wars.) The only problem with the 1995 Pride and Prejudice miniseries is that it’s rather long.  Six hours to be exact, and even though they’re six hours of Colin Firth goodness, a fictional Edwardian gentleman can only go so far in satisfying a woman’s a needs.  And I was hungry. “How do you feel about breakfast in bed?” I asked The Wedding Date. “Not good,” he replied.  Keep in mind this is the same man who practically had a heart attack when I tried to bring a Tupperware of cookies into his living room on our third date. But that was nearly a year ago.  Since then, we’ve worked up to wine on the coffee table, water on the nightstand and even popcorn …

Easy Valentine’s Gifts for the Jane Austen Lover

Yesterday I wrote about my college boyfriend (who bought me the complete works of Jane Austen for Valentine’s Day) and my current beau, The Wedding Date (who bought me a Jane Austen necklace for Christmas instead). As noted, the complete works don’t make for a very good gift if your significant other already has the complete works (unless it’s some sort of special collector’s edition, which is a totally different story, but frankly I’d still prefer jewelry). I never realized just how much Jane Austen merchandise exists nowadays, but there’s tons of it, so I’ve compiled a list of the highlights (including Darcy pajamas… for men!) in order to help you find the perfect Valentine’s Day gift for the Janeite in your life. (You can click on the picture for quick and easy online shopping.) Related articles How to Blow the Curve: A Modern Man’s Guide to Romantic Gifts (fieldworkinstilettos.com) A Jane Austen Inspired Valentine’s Day Giveaway with Bingley’s Teas (austenprose.com) Compulsively Mr. Darcy Blog Tour with Author Nina Benneton, & Giveaway! (austenprose.com)

How to Blow the Curve: A Modern Man’s Guide to Romantic Gifts

Shortly before Valentine’s Day during my senior year of college, my boyfriend-at-the-time asked me to name my favorite author. “Jane Austen,” I replied.  Wasn’t that obvious? Evidently not, because on Valentine’s Day he presented with the complete works on Jane Austen, all bound together in a single hardcover volume. When I didn’t immediately burst into tears and commit the volume to a prominent position in my messenger bag, he acted surprised.  And disappointed. “Don’t you like it?” he asked. “Yes,” I replied, “but I already have all of her books.”  (Favorite author, remember?) He looked hurt. “That’s not to say that I don’t like having them all together,” I added.  “In fact, it’s great to have an extra copy!  Now I’ll be able to keep this one as reference!” I could tell that he’d tried, so I did my best to assure him that I appreciated the thought he’d put into my gift, but several months later, he brought it up again. “How come you never read the book I got you?” “Because I’ve already …

I’m Pretty Sure He Was Talking to My Bra

On Friday night, The Wedding Date told me he loved me.  But I don’t think he was talking to me.  I think he was talking to my bra. His exact words were, “God, I love you!” But he was staring at my chest, probably because we were in his bedroom and I had just removed my sweater to reveal my one and only Victoria’s Secret bra—but still. How does one accidentally drop the “L” word?  (Especially when you pause to consider the fact that my cleavage is hardly my greatest asset.) I didn’t respond.  I mean, what’s a girl supposed to say to that?  I don’t think he even realized that he’d said the “L” word and I myself wasn’t sure until I ran over the entire scene over again in my head, but he did. He totally did. I’ve written quite a bit about the “L” word in the past.  In fact, those of you who have been following the progress of my Great Date Experiment may recall a post I wrote a few …

The Voice of Reason… or Something

Well, I’m glad that yesterday’s post didn’t completely offend anyone.  And those of you who pointed out that beauty doesn’t necessarily equal power are right; beauty does tend to equal low self esteem, and who’s to say what’s beautiful anyway? I guess the point I was trying to make is that anyone in a position  of power—be it good looks, a successful career, a great sense of humor, etc.—ought to set the bar high for the benefit of those who might be unable or unwilling to do so themselves. Now, moving on to new business… Well, it’s not really new business.  It’s just further justification (a Jane Austen justification, actually) of my continued dalliance with Date #7 because frankly, I’m starting to question my own sanity. Edward Ferrars was seeing someone else when he first met Elinor Dashwood.  In fact, he was engaged to someone else, and yet he still spent his entire stay at Norland inadvertently puttin’ the moves on. I know this not because I’ve read Sense and Sensibility but because I’ve seen …

Persuasion

Persuasion.  We’ve all felt it.  In fact, there’s an entire Jane Austen novel on the subject, entitled (not surprisingly) “Persuasion.”  It wasn’t one of her best, as evidenced by the fact that it’s not been turned into a Hollywood blockbuster starring Keira Knightly or Kate Winslett (in fact, it took me four tries to make it past the first chapter) but I’m starting to feel a bit like Anne Elliot these days. Who’s Anne Elliot?  I’m so glad you asked.  According to Wikipedia, Anne Elliot falls in love with a handsome young naval officer named Frederick Wentworth, who is intelligent and ambitious, but poor.  Sir Walter, Anne’s father and lord of the family estate of Kellynch, and her older sister Elizabeth are dissatisfied with her choice, maintaining that he is not distinguished enough for their family.  Her older friend and mentor, Lady Russell, acting in place of Anne’s deceased mother, persuades her to break off the match. Now, aged 27 and still unmarried, Anne re-encounters her former fiancé when his sister and brother-in-law, the Crofts, …

The Next Installment of the Gentlemen’s Guide: Weekend Wooing

Back in junior high, my BFF and I decided to write a manual for boys—boys who were interested in dating us.  We were fed up with their blundering attempts and, fancying ourselves the lucky recipients of a superior education concerning all things romance (courtesy of Jane Austen novels and BBC costume dramas), we set out to equip them with the knowledge they so desperately needed. The only problem (at least the only evident problem) was the publication of our little treatise.  How would we get them to read it? If only I’d had a blog back then… As such, I feel that I am bound by duty and honor and the godforsaken desire to date a man who knows what he’s doing to publish the following.  Consider this the next installment in my Gentleman’s Guide to Wooing Women, except this time, instead of focusing on online dating protocol we’re going to take a look at the weekend visit. Now before you jump to conclusions and assume that the following assemblage is in any way indicative …

Love, or a Literary Exercise?

Thank God my data plan now supports unlimited texting.  Date #7 and I exchanged 82 messages yesterday.  Eighty two!  Granted, he was sitting on a plane at the time so he was presumably bored and subsequently grateful to receive 50 text messages from Yours Truly, even if the majority of these were written with the emotional maturity of a seventeen year old. It’s not my fault that his letter has undone every last ounce of tranquility I’d managed to cultivate (through a complicated process of denial, distraction and sleep deprivation) since his departure from Philadelphia a week ago. I didn’t ask him to write to me. I didn’t ask him to be all sincere and romantic and nice. I didn’t ask him to make me cry, again, and this time in a good way. Most of all, I didn’t ask him to give me the opportunity to write back, thereby unleashing the fire-breathing, stationary-wielding, Jane Austen-quoting monster that’s been lying dormant ever since my last love letter failed to elicit the desired results. I used …