Common Cliches and Figures of Speech
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So being a woman I am not apt to wonder why in the hell we females, being most obviously superior to men when it comes to taste, obsessed with one Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberly. But I can imagine for a man who can only find the scope of his imagination in what might happen if Kobe fouls out or the Brewers win the World Series, it would be frightfully annoying and perplexing. Ball scratching even.
And yet every time this man... this Mr. Darcy, who to the male appears a bit frumpy and altogether confusing with his archaic words and weird accent, flits across a page or screen every female in the general vicinity (aware or not) explodes in a glorious fountain of estrogen and unnatural desire. He is our version, in short, of porn. He has just enough of the tantalizing chest hair poking through, and the cutest face, and adorable manners and the ability to seem like an ass but turn out to be the most thoughtful, caring man on earth. In short, alien or deity. Perhaps both.
Because... let's face it. The reason women swoon at the mere mention of Mr. Darcy is because real men are apes. It shocks me sometimes to not see them still flinging poo about at each other. I suppose, however, that some years of evolution and/or motherly imposition of morals, manners, and the notion that poo is dirty, has helped eased that situation. But Mr. Darcy is exempt from his former-poo-flinging male peers.
And I thank one Miss Jane Austen for that. A million times thank you for creating a Mr. Darcy - a man among apes. And to the apes that scratch various body parts in utter confusion. Take a lesson from Darcy. Clothes, manners, English accents, and fierce passion are pros while sports-boo-hooing, poo-flinging, and general scratching of male appendages and body parts are cons.
In summation, with pictures for those prone to desiring picture books or being ape-like...
And yet every time this man... this Mr. Darcy, who to the male appears a bit frumpy and altogether confusing with his archaic words and weird accent, flits across a page or screen every female in the general vicinity (aware or not) explodes in a glorious fountain of estrogen and unnatural desire. He is our version, in short, of porn. He has just enough of the tantalizing chest hair poking through, and the cutest face, and adorable manners and the ability to seem like an ass but turn out to be the most thoughtful, caring man on earth. In short, alien or deity. Perhaps both.
Because... let's face it. The reason women swoon at the mere mention of Mr. Darcy is because real men are apes. It shocks me sometimes to not see them still flinging poo about at each other. I suppose, however, that some years of evolution and/or motherly imposition of morals, manners, and the notion that poo is dirty, has helped eased that situation. But Mr. Darcy is exempt from his former-poo-flinging male peers.
And I thank one Miss Jane Austen for that. A million times thank you for creating a Mr. Darcy - a man among apes. And to the apes that scratch various body parts in utter confusion. Take a lesson from Darcy. Clothes, manners, English accents, and fierce passion are pros while sports-boo-hooing, poo-flinging, and general scratching of male appendages and body parts are cons.
In summation, with pictures for those prone to desiring picture books or being ape-like...
Pro:
Con: 
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