Jane Austen Dating Game: A Million-Dollar Scheme

I think I smell a book deal, guys. See, here’s the pitch: fanciful, independent single girl uses her favorite Austen novels as a dating Bible for one year, following the practices and advice therein in her search for her very own Mr. Darcy. Are you listening, Publishing? ‘Cause I think this is a hit.

Actually, I think I can predict what happens to Our Heroine at the end of the year: approximately nothing.

If we’re talking about the process of meeting, signaling interest in, and successfully navigating a social relationship with a man, there’s shockingly little about the Austenian courtship ritual that lends itself to great romantic success today—no matter how universal Jane’s themes are. Mutual love and respect? Yes and yes. Actually meeting a dude? Yeah…good luck with that, ‘kay?

I suspect a year of Austen Dating would involve a lot of the following:

– Lady pastimes: sketching flowers, embroidery, knitting, playing the ever-popular pianoforte, singing in preparation of any upcoming social gatherings (OBVIOUSLY). Probably not a lot of wearing halter tops to sports bars, hanging around the produce department in search of gentlemen with above-average pineapple-choosing skills, retooling the old OKCupid profile, or any other activities likely to attract, or, for that matter, come into the vaguest contact with, a straight and single man.

– Waiting for various gentlemen to visit unannounced, then pretending as if she were not waiting for various gentlemen to visit unannounced

– Casting suggestive glances in church

– Writing cordial, hopeful, but generally unspicy letters, which then take like three days to arrive, ONE WAY.

– Dancing? Dancing! Whether this kind of merriment/social scouting is permitted to take place in a modern setting—or at some kind of Regency event, which is where we meet ALL our men—would have to be in our heroine’s publishing contract. Either way, expect a lot of group social dances. Really, though, what club kid DOESN’T like a nice reel?

– Picnics, which actually sort of translates, depending on the number of J. Crew lobster pants our heroine owns. This, by the way, defies the odds of the previous five points and indicates a certain degree of success. This is like second base.

– Heartbreak when the picnicking partner turns out to be some kind of low-grade pedophile. How will we ever love again, except for that nice but unusual neighbor we keep seeing around?

– Walks in the countryside, which we all know is mostly code for “prime check-out time” and possibly more—depending on the level of sluttitude—but probably not a LOT more. By this time, you’re basically living together, so you’d better ask a lot of questions before you grab your bonnet and head out the door.

And…well, that’s it, unless we’re talking “morning wedding.” Top hats and tails! Which might make a really excellent end to our blog-to-book journey—beautifully photographed, of course—except for the part that now our heroine is contractually required to fire up the Regency mommy blog. On to the sequel!

You’re welcome, Books.