Searching for Mr. Darcy

Scene One

The lights dimmed as random guy number two droned on about craft beer.  It was almost as if the continual hum of his voice was able to suck the glow out of the air.   Maisie surreptitiously checked the time on her phone: 11:32PM.  She'd promised her best friend, Talia, she'd stay out until at least midnight, but random guy number two threatened her resolve.  Talia seemed to be enjoying random guy number one's company, but Talia always did seem to enjoy random guys.

 There had been many, many times in their ten year friendship that Maisie wished to be just a little bit more like Talia.  Her friend always knew what to say, was the life of every party, and never seemed to have a care in the world.  Maisie knew from their many late-night cryfests that appearances weren't everything, but she would have given an arm and leg to pull off the appearance of togetherness Talia exuded.

On paper, they actually weren't much different.  Both single, thirty years old, and experiencing a career boon, their paths headed in the same direction.  They had been drawn together by a shared frustration of over-achieving older sisters and over-bearing mothers.  Still, you didn't have to be an insider to know that when a man approached Talia in a bar, she'd get a nice night out of it, and when a man approached Maisie, she'd get an unsolicited dick pic.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.  "Oh!" Maisie exclaimed, clutching her stomach. The bejeweled handbag Talia lent her dug into the skin, helping her feign pain.

"What's wrong?" the rando asked, the concern in his voice not-quite-believable.

"Cramps.  Ugh, I must be starting my period."

His face blanched and Maisie felt a wicked thrill run through her.  She couldn't explain why she loved grossing immature men out so much.  Perhaps because it was the one thing she could predict with certainty.

"You know, I should probably get going - don't want to bleed all over my jeans."  She turned to set her drink on the bar and dropped a twenty to cover her tab and a tip.  The bartender nodded his acknowledgement and snatched the bill off the counter.  When she faced the crowd again, Talia disengaged from her rando and frowned.

"You aren't leaving, Maze."

"I'm not feeling well.

"You promised."

Maisie had promised, but Talia broke more promises than anyone else she knew.  "I know, and I'm sorry.  I can't stay another minute.  You don't have to leave, though."

But Talia was already putting her number in random guy number one's phone and motioning to the bartender for her own check.  When it was settled, she waved merrily to the men before linking her arm through the crook in Maisie's elbow and steering them both toward the door.  "I was having fun."

"Clearly I wasn't, though.  That guy was such a douche!"

"Mine wasn't," Talia said simply.

"Yours never are."

"You're too pessimistic.  You're never going to be happy with any guy who wasn't conjured up by Jane Austen's imagination."

Maisie sighed.  "You've got a point there.  Honestly, though, is it even worth it if a guy isn't Mr. Darcy?"

"He's not real!" Talia laughed.  "You're never going to find someone like Mr. Darcy because he doesn't exist.  Now, Brandon back there - he's real.  And semi-cute. And has a decent job.  I'm also fairly certain he's not a sexual predator or a momma's boy.  That's about as good as it gets these days."

"Now who's the cynic?  If that's as good as it gets, leave me to my fantasies.  I'd rather be wooed by fiction than disappointed by reality."  Maisie opened up the Uber app on her phone and waited for the GPS to pinpoint their location.  It was a cold night - much colder for mid-April than normal - and she wished she'd brought a jacket.  Parked cars lined the road against the sidewalk while more crept down Glenwood Avenue, braking every few feet to avoid the drunk men and women stumbling across to the other side.  Talia kept herself busy texting someone - probably random Brandon, the non-sexual predator.

Forty-five minutes later, Talia asleep on Maisie's couch, and the smell of random guy number two's cologne scrubbed out of her skin and hair, Maisie took a battered book off the shelf in her bedroom.  Her annual reading of Pride and Prejudice was still several months away,  but she couldn't stop herself from thumbing through the worn pages and eagerly reading, "It is a truth universally acknowledged..."