I met Bob when I was nineteen. He was two years older than me. We started to go out, and three months later we became official. We dated for five years. When I had finished college, I started to hint it was time for us to get married. "I want to get to know you first," he'd say. "How lucky am I," I would think. "I'm with a guy who thinks carefully before taking such decisions." Finally, after three years, he proposed. We got married the following year. Seven years later, here I am. Divorced. In bed with a tissue box next to me and a stack of books on my lap. Jane Austen has been my therapist through all this. She gave me the best advice anyone could ever give a young girl. Too bad it's too late for me. I deeply hope no woman has to repeat my story, so I am willing to share the advice with you.
Skip the boyfriend part. Go straight for the husband.
Look at me. I spent nine years getting to know a guy who left me seven years into the marriage. For goodness sake, we spent more time getting to know each other than actually being husband and wife!
But look at Jane and Elizabeth! They've known Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy for less than two years and they're engaged. I have no doubt they will be happy. They will grow old together and be like Mr and Mrs. Bennett who have been married for twenty three years. I used to criticize this rush for marriage. But ironic as it may seem, it works.
Get to know the man, and you'll end up like me. Marry him like they do in fairy tales, and prepare yourself for a happily ever after.
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