Dearest Darcy,
In modern relationships, it seems that everything moves so much faster than it ever would have at Pemberley. People meet, fall into lust, fall into love, become engaged, and get married. After the marriage (and often times before), babies begin to emerge and all of a sudden you become the adopted aunt of at least six children before you hit 25.
I have always personally wondered at whirlwind romances. A whirlwind is never a pleasant thing to experience--at least not in nature. They cause unexpected disruption: dust in the eyes, flying detritus, scrapes, and an overall cloudiness. It could even be considered a "trial tornado." But when we want to describe "love-at-first-sight," we deem it a "whirlwind" romance.
Dearest Darcy, doesn't that seem the tiniest bit unpleasant to you?
In the time of Pride and Prejudice everything moved so much slower romantically. For Darcy and Lizzie, holding hands was considered extremely forborne, and other physical contact was completely out of the realm of perception until certain arrangements had been made. And as the wise woman Beyonce would say, physical contact of that nature would only be acceptable after he "put a ring on it." Darcy would never encroach on a woman's territory or her personal space until a connection was firmly established (arranged marriages aside). Darcy didn't even tell Elizabeth of his feelings until he couldn't contain them any longer, and he only then did he put himself completely out on the ledge of possible rejection.
I have been there myself, and I must say that it's invigorating. But the fact that you care enough to place yourself in that position means that you care enough about something/someone to make it known. Those months of anticipation, that feeling in your stomach, that smile that creeps across your face at a mention, cannot be created in a whirlwind.
In a whirlwind romance adrenaline is provoking those kinds of outstanding confessions: not the months of interaction, growth and learning about the other, but a physical need to feel a rush that is often associated with love. But love is not a swirling mass of chaos. At least not in form, in feeling it may very well be. It has the semblance of purpose in the real world.
So, if I had to place a bet on the types of feelings that would grow to survive a marriage, I wouldn't put my money on the whirlwind. Getting to know someone and seeing their geeky side, their sense of humor, the differences that somehow make you closer, a longing to be around someone without being clingy, and the realization that you can be absolutely content in your personal space just knowing that that other person is doing the same. Girls nights, and boys nights, movie nights, and strolling days.
Dearest Darcy, is it so unreasonable to believe that the slow, small, barely moving whirlwind that takes your breath away on a first kiss could grow into something so much greater and deeper? That love doesn't need to be rushed, because if you love someone today as much as you think you do, you will still love them in 100 days, or 3 years, or a decade?
People in our contemporary culture see love as so fast paced with first date to children in just a year or so. We need to slow everything down and cherish every second of our god-given lives, especially those connections of love. Why on EARTH would you ever want to speed such a glorious, messed-up, wonderful, revelatory, emotional, and destined-to-change-you process?
We need to realize that women don't want cling-wrap. That Darcy always kept his distance. And you know what? He got the girl.
Dearest Darcy, is it strange to want space and security from a relationship outside of lust or the idea of being swept off of one's feet? To want to know that love is "more than a feeling" and something tangible that presents itself as a lasting, committed, loving relationship based on more than an initial rush or a simply a ring?
