I went on a blind date of sorts last week. I say 'of sorts' because we knew what we each looked like so it wasn't all that blind. The problem was...there was nothing there. I don't mean he was an idiot or anything but there was just nothing there between us and I could tell that within about 3 minutes (funnily enough apparently the exact amount of time allowance they give you on speed dating so maybe it's not such a bad idea!) 'On paper' as it were he seemed everything that I would want yet in practice...nothing.
It is hard to meet a suitable partner when you are busy running your own business - which is essentially what you are doing being an actor. All throughout drama school you have been surrounded by, by and large, absolutely wonderful gay boys that show you how marvelous the opposite sex can be and no poor straight boy can ever compete. Celebrities do not set a good example for budding superstars either - their relationships seem to be short lived and messy, not to mention plastered all over the papers (superstars love their weekly dose of 'The National Enquirer')
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Aside from the complete lack of desire to have my name split with someone else (as with 'Bradgelina' and 'Benifer' etc) and indeed the wonderful boys in my life that sadly fancy Rupert Penry Jones as much as I do; what I hold responsible for my lack of success when it comes to love is three fold. There are three things that have played on my artistic temperament and affected my view on how relationships should happen:
1) Musicals 2) Teen Movies 3) Jane (Bloody) Austen
(Picture from http://www.filmreference.com/images/sjff_03_img0999.jpg)
The musicals of the 1940's and 1950s have shown me that men fall in love with you at first sight; that no matter how famous they may be and how lowly you may be they will fight to be with you (and make you a star in the process); that no matter what magical curse exists - he will give up his comfortable life for you; that the boy next door you are secretly in love with really loves you back; that if you go to Paris you will dance around fountains with a man in tight trousers; and no matter how much you start off hating each other you will end up loving each other in equal measure.
The hating each other thing is continued in the genre of 'Teen Movies' although they also throw in the evil twist of 'the nerdy best friend who has been secretly in love with you all along and you only noticed he was stunning gorgeous at the last minute (after having an awful time with the boy you thought you wanted at the begining). I say evil twist because I kept looking at all my male friends throughout school wondering if one day I would fancy them and of course rather than creating any real feelings for said boys it just made me feel weird around them - it was equally awkward when looking for ones that I mutually hated!
And lastly the queen of 'chick lit', the lady responsible for many women's standards when it comes to love: Jane Austen. I have always been a period drama fan, I bought all three book within 'The Forsyte Saga' after falling in love with the relationship of John and Fleur and I, like many women, decided this year to read my way through the Austen novels so I could be one of those pretentious people that pick apart television and film adaptations. I am only two and a bit novels in but I can never go back now. I cannot read any more naff, poorly written 'chick lit' novels now I have experienced Catherine and Mr Tilney's young love and Anne Elliot's enduring love for Captain Wentworth. Why does this affect my own love life? Because not only are there the obvious things like the simple manners and graces of gentlemen in those days, I actually now am in the frame of mind that if a relationship is worth having it is worth suffering for. Yes you read right, I seem to now subconciously want suffering and passion: I want to meet the cheeky Mr Tilney and be slighted by his family or re-meet Captain Wentworth after years of being seperated by our families only to still be as hopelessly in love as before (yet not knowing this until the last possible moment though).
And then I think WHAT IN THE WORLD IS WRONG WITH ME!?!?!?!?!
It was fixed accordingly, that Mrs Clay should be if the party in the carriage; and they had just reached this point, when Anne, as he sat near the window, descried, most decidedly and distinctly, Captain Wentworth walking down the street.
Her start was perceptible only to herself; but she instantly felt that she was the greatest simpleton in the world, the most unaccountable and absurd! For a few minutes she saw nothing before her; it was all confusion. She was lost, and when she had scolded back her senses, she found the others still waiting for the carriage, and Mr Elliot (always obliging) just setting off for Union Street on a commission of Mrs Clay's.
She now felt a great inclination to go to the outer door; she wanted to see if it rained. Why was she to suspect herself of another motive? Captain Wentworth must be out of sight. She left her seat, she would go; one half of her should not be always so much wiser than the other half, or always suspecting the other of being worse than it was. She would see if it rained. She was sent back, however, in a moment by the entrance of Captain Wentworth himself, among a party of gentlemen and ladies, evidently his acquaintance, and whom he must have joined a little below Milsom Street. He was more obviously struck and confused by the sight of her than she had ever observed before; he looked quite red.
For the first time, since their renewed acquaintance, she felt that she was betraying the least sensibility of the two. She had the advantage of him in the preparation of the last few moments. All the overpowering, blinding, bewildering, first effects of strong surprise were over with her. Still, however, she had enough to feel! It was agitation, pain, pleasure, a something between delight and misery.
He spoke to her, and then turned away. The character of his manner was embarrassment. She could not have called it either cold or friendly, or anything so certainly as embarrassed."
Persuasion by Jane Austen Chapter 19
