Like Emma

Since it has been so long, I decided to start my dear readers thinking. I would like to compare my life to Emma Woodhouse's. Think for a moment.

Emma Woodhouse and me. Well it's a stretch. I am not quite so selfish (a little bit I'll grant you) and I'm not nearly so great at matchmaking (but we all know she only had one lucky shot). But I said compare to her life. So let's do that.

I live comfortably in a large-ish home (it feels large to me anyway compared to the small apartment I live in now). My family is by no means wealthy but we certainly make do. I have lots of dear friends to surround me. Of course Emma's prominent friends are Miss Smith, Mrs. Weston, and....Mr. Knightley (oohs and ahhs).

Oh Mr. Knightley (oohs and ahhs). We all have one of these in our lives at one point or another. That dear friend that is so much more than dear. How does he put it?

"Emma! You want our friendship to remain the same as it has always been, but I cannot desire that... I do not wish to call you my friend because I hope to call you something infinitely more dear."

WELL. What girl wouldn't like to hear that from Mr. Knightley? I'd swoon.

To the point. There have been Mr. Knightley's in my life and I have never taken it on myself to "succeed at winning" them. I always have a menagerie of friends acting as a support system (more like a wrecking ball that I am clinging to as it swings crazily) informing me in the ways of pushing him out of the friend zone.

I have no finesse in the ways of catching men. In fact I'm quite clumsy. I usually end up scaring off the interesting ones and attracting the too-interesting ones. So as you might guess I'm quite wary when told to pull a "Mr. Knightley." You are QUITE right.

Well, to Mr. Knightley, beware. It may be a disaster or it may be a monumental event.