Series: The Death of Morality--Gentleman

Going to a local water-hole in the heart of New York City, one finds an amalgam of people there with only one thing on their mind: Hook up. No matter how different their circumstances, societies, cultures, they all come to this open house leaving behind their restrictions, desiring only one core thing—to meet someone new, a potential, and then hook up. Although, not everyone goes home with a conquest, when the night starts out, the smell of possibility strongly lingers. As the night progresses, depending on one’s success, either one finds the delectable food that tingled their olfaction or one goes home hungry, dejected.

In the heart of this water-hole are two key players: the Man and the Woman. This post will be about the Man.

Men, throughout history, have always had one thing constant on their minds: Sex. Ranging from ladies-man, Casanova, to lady-killer, Henry VIII, to multiple-ladies, Osama Bin Laden, they all show their embarrassing yet true constant thought. The fact that this notion has been proved by Science does not aid the situation any further as it just makes men more potent and freer in their pursuit as they now safely have the excuse “blame our hormones not us” as back-up if they ever needed it.

However, the men of this era are somewhat different, somewhat more dangerous and a lot more disappointing. Their thought, as proved by Science, still revolves around the same thing but now it has more power for they are no longer ashamed in displaying it, no longer mindful of the fact that it might be “too robust for delicate feminine thought.” And at such common hang outs like the water-hole, this thought becomes even more pronounced, with the beast eyeing its prey and waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on it after baiting it with the lure of a refreshing drink.

The Gentleman has finally met his death in this era of Amorality. The tradition of chivalry and respect for the opposite sex that had continued for the last two thousand years has come to an unfortunate end as men become increasingly careless, wayward, and selfish. Instead of protecting and shielding women from their beastly counterparts, they themselves have morphed into the beasts, wanting nothing but “a nice piece of ass.” There is no longer a clear cut distinction between the Wickham and the Darcy, the evil guy and the good guy.

And, what’s more—these modern men are clever. They take pleasure in creating a smoke screen of appearing as Mr.Darcys in their normal day-to-day life. It is only under the cover of alcohol, heat, dancing, and the omnipresent Night that their true selves are revealed. Thus, a trip to the water-hole, in the wee hours of the night is a must for dreamers like me to finally “wake up and smell the coffee.”

Personal insight: Discovering this truth has led me to terminate my search for my perfect counterpart. Like any other girl, I too have a desire to get married, but unlike most, I feel that the desire will remain just that. I am cynical and every man I meet has distinct qualities of the Modern Man, and thus I am repulsed by him. Only a few times, I think I am lucky enough to meet some exceptions, but in this age of momentary meetings, they fade into the many faces that I have crossed brief but meaningful paths with. And there you have it: a perfect craving of marriage, just lacking a groom or even a possibility of him.

Series: The Death of Morality--Prologue

A better part of my life has been spent hooded under the shroud of fantasy. It began with the reading of Pride and Prejudice when I was 12 years old and completely impressionable. It continued with the viewing of an adaption of the same book and with the reading of yet another Austen classic, Northanger Abbey, and all of a sudden, I found myself becoming a “Regency” junkie. I would buy, read, watch anything that was related to the Regency period and when I began running out of that material, I broadened my thirst for history by indulging in eras ranging from the Medieval all the way to the Victorian. Soon my obsession amounted to dangerous heights as I began viewing everything from that angle, refusing to face the 21st century head-on and instead adorning it in the fineries from one of these finer periods. Sweet Sixteens in my mind morphed into “Coming out balls” where everyone wore their best dresses and celebrated with their ton; modern “guys” changed into Mr.Darcys and Mr.Tilneys, charming, chivalrous, and respectful; modern “gals” (including, I) became the prototypes of heroines like Lizzy Bennet. And all this came with one core center: Innocence.

As I aged, my eyes soon started adjusting to the harsh realities of the actual modern age, where, at every step, I found myself rudely awakened from the norms of old and shoved into the beliefs of the new. And, just like the eras of past were labeled “Regency,” “Gothic,” “Victorian,” etc, this era is personally labeled by me as “Amoral.”
And so begins my journey to define this age that embraces the death of morality…