To Archibald
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TennyoCeres84
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2931
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
To Archibald
So, word is you're smitten with Crystal. What do you find attractive about her?
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IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
- Posts: 3709
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:54 am
- Location: Quebec, Canada
As Archibald
"If you were to go back in time and explain to my still-living self that I would fall for a leading woman, I never would have believed it.
You can take a man out of the Victorian times, but you cannot take the Imperial days out of the man. These were years of masculine affirmation, but also of profound affectations. Men were not expected to display the full extent of their emotional transports, and women were held to standards of decency most of today's third-wave feminists would gawk at. Love was expressed in glances and surreptitious clasps of the beloved's hand. Men leaned onto the words of more daring individuals to illustrate the extent of their devotion. They lived as dilettantes and dandies, whilst the rest of us snatched fragments of emotional bravery from them.
All the same, my time's men were not expected to be chiselled, or even especially virile. A gentleman was a creature of thought and careful observation, capable of remaining impassible while still offering minute and intimate moments of deep attention.
Today, the French concept of the femme de tête has joined the mainstream consciousness. Women are no longer meek and silent. I've spent my years hoping for Iphigenia to return to me, as what I saw of her after her transformation troubled me. Today, I can scarcely recognize my old flame in Sasha Grey. People have referred to me as being cold or distant, but never have I been so mortified at the sight of honest moral decay as I have been at her sight, as of a few months back. Thinking back on this poor woman, this lost thing who misuses her immortality, makes my heart ache.
For several weeks, I gnawed on the admittedly mistaken notion that this modern world was producing harlots everywhere I looked. Then, in the midst of an investigation, I was called to work in close proximity to the Deputy Chief. In her, I saw the bright side of the moon. I saw that women were now free to take whatever they cared - but that there were still many to refuse to wrench a man's heart at the first sign of weakness. She, quite simply, saved my life twice in a single week. Having not been raised an ungrateful man, I felt obliged to express my gratitude. Only then did I see how... magnetic today's mixture of wilfulness and consideration can be. Only then did I see feminine graces intertwined with the martial wiles I'd long-since come to respect.
I would be ever-so-grateful if she would grant me an evening or two. It is... difficult for me to admit, but this ticking heart has been wounded. I suppose I find myself hoping that there is still someone left in this world to find my dusty, old mannerisms somewhat fetching..."
You can take a man out of the Victorian times, but you cannot take the Imperial days out of the man. These were years of masculine affirmation, but also of profound affectations. Men were not expected to display the full extent of their emotional transports, and women were held to standards of decency most of today's third-wave feminists would gawk at. Love was expressed in glances and surreptitious clasps of the beloved's hand. Men leaned onto the words of more daring individuals to illustrate the extent of their devotion. They lived as dilettantes and dandies, whilst the rest of us snatched fragments of emotional bravery from them.
All the same, my time's men were not expected to be chiselled, or even especially virile. A gentleman was a creature of thought and careful observation, capable of remaining impassible while still offering minute and intimate moments of deep attention.
Today, the French concept of the femme de tête has joined the mainstream consciousness. Women are no longer meek and silent. I've spent my years hoping for Iphigenia to return to me, as what I saw of her after her transformation troubled me. Today, I can scarcely recognize my old flame in Sasha Grey. People have referred to me as being cold or distant, but never have I been so mortified at the sight of honest moral decay as I have been at her sight, as of a few months back. Thinking back on this poor woman, this lost thing who misuses her immortality, makes my heart ache.
For several weeks, I gnawed on the admittedly mistaken notion that this modern world was producing harlots everywhere I looked. Then, in the midst of an investigation, I was called to work in close proximity to the Deputy Chief. In her, I saw the bright side of the moon. I saw that women were now free to take whatever they cared - but that there were still many to refuse to wrench a man's heart at the first sign of weakness. She, quite simply, saved my life twice in a single week. Having not been raised an ungrateful man, I felt obliged to express my gratitude. Only then did I see how... magnetic today's mixture of wilfulness and consideration can be. Only then did I see feminine graces intertwined with the martial wiles I'd long-since come to respect.
I would be ever-so-grateful if she would grant me an evening or two. It is... difficult for me to admit, but this ticking heart has been wounded. I suppose I find myself hoping that there is still someone left in this world to find my dusty, old mannerisms somewhat fetching..."