It’s a little disconcerting. It’s rather unbecoming really. In fact, I’m tempted to venture & make claim it all to be a very bewildering existence.
The very idea that I can sit myself down, and watch the same movie no less than 30 times (might I even dare say more). I find myself mouthing lines, quipping quotes, and feeling genuinely so at every plot turn & little quaint habits of the old English ways ever so close-to-heart.
Right on. I just sat thru it once again. And as I watched Colonel Christopher Brandon (Alan Rickman, aka Professor Severus Snape) quietly going about his way, ever faithfully, ever patiently caring for Marianne Dashwood (Kate Winslet) I thought to myself ‘who does this anymore?’. When was the last time someone opened a door for me? (when has it even?!) Who would slave laboriously for the happiness of someone else while keeping his efforts quiet? With all the modern trappings for communication, when has anyone said anything nice to you without you harbouring an equally disingenuous reply?
I’m old-fashioned. Some say old-school. You know the kind. I open doors for women, because all women deserve to be treated like ladies. And in this day and age, more women need to treated like ladies because they need to be reminded they are such. And I don’t mean this in a flattering way. Okay, back to those doors. I open them for my friends when I am able to and I open them for even strangers, because it is the decent thing to do. So yes, I am old-fashioned. In my perfect world, the husband is the breadwinner. The provider, and in many ways, the protector, of his household. Not one to talk a lot, he hands over his life to his spouse; money, savings, passwords, dirty laundry et al. In the house he should help with the chores and put those muscles to good use. In the bedroom …. now that should be on another posting. In the bedroom, I’m anything but old-fashioned.
Oh, I have not the understanding of this matter. : I do not know.