Oh, Rochester!

Having just finished watching the BBC adapation of Jane Eyre, I have come to the conclussion that they just don't make men like they used to. This made me wonder though, why? Is it because the female of the species have found their independence? *cough*
If you look at Mr Darcy, Heathcliffe, Rochester...all impassioned sexy men; all lived in the in the 1800's; all looked positively dashing in high collers galloping around on horses or alternatively jumping into lakes.
Another question comes to mind - is there something lacking in the men of today which makes swoon after these 19th Century fictional characters, and is that why we seem to never be satisfied with the men we have and divorce rates have never been higher, or, have we just found modern counterparts and due to more flexible views on being with someone we have lost the capability to stick it out with someone, 'till death us do part'?
So what do the men of Austen and the Bronte's have in common?
~ They all have under-lying almost animalistic sexiness.
~ They are all tall and well built
~ They are all, lets face it, rather arrogant and up themselves
~ They all expect women to just..well, do what they want without considering her feelings on the matter.
~ Come to think of, they all treat women quite badly before copping on to themselves (although to be fair it's debateable whether or not Heathcliffe ever achieved enlightenment on the whole respect women part...)
So where does this leave us in today's world?
Well, we all know men who have all the above attriubutes, so I guess they still make them like that. If we have these men, why are we unhappy? I give you my ground-breaking, earth-shattering theory: the true appeal of these men is that the women they love change them. What we want : the asshole who changes, just for us. We want to be the one with that unknown power, that something about us that turns a chauvinistic player into putty in our hands and above all, a decent man.
And there's the rub. The men we love from those stories are fictional. In real life, those assholes? They won't change, and that's why so manyh women are unhappy.
Personally, I say, give the decent guy a chance - you might just surprise yourself. Or, play the field yourslf, have fun, do whatever the hell you like. After all, you onlyy live once.
And, speaking of Austen and Bronte...

Jane followed Katherine as close as she could, trying desperately not to step in any puddles along the way. Half way down the street Katy turned suddenly into a lane and Jane found herself host to a wonderful aray of bright colours, noises and smells.
"Where are we?" she asked Katy once she caught her breath.
"The English market. There's a wonderful little cafe up the stairs here. My friends are waiting for me. Come." replied Katy smiling.
Jane obeyed and climbed the narrow stairs, taking care not sgtep on her underskirts. The two made their way to a table in the centre of the room around which sat a group of four or five people. Jane's breath caught in her throat. She was rather shy in new company and was unsure how to conduct herself. Thankfully, Katy turned out to be wonderful in such a social situation. It quickly became clear to Jane that she was a very well-liked girl and knew exactly how to sway people to her way of thinking.
"Everyone," she began, "May I introduce Lady Victoria's niece: Miss Jane Granger."
Jane was immediately surrounded by a chorous of greetings and welcomes. She wondered how she would ever remember everyone's name!
After some tea, once she had relaxed a little, Jane even ventured to add her oppinion to the discourse which had at that point had turned to the recent marriage of Lord Baskerville.
"From what I've heard, her Ladyship was rather insistent on a quick marriage, if you know what I mean." a girl by the name of Eveline Netherfield was saying.
"How could you possibly know that?" Stephanie Charlton replied, "if you don't know anyone involved there is no way that could be verrified and you should not say it."
"I cannot say as to the truth of that matter, but I do know that Lord Baskerville spends rather too much time and money on those hounds of his much to the detriment of his health. His wife should be lucky to see him at all." Jane interupted, and immediately regretted for the table fell silent.
"My dear Jane, how could you know that?" Ava O'Conor asked wide-eyed.
Jane swallowed hard. Had she said too much? How much information was it appropriate to give? Had she assumed confidence in this cirlce too quickly?
"Please Jane, do go on. You're driving us mad with curiosity!" Katy prompted impatiently.
"My father spent time in England. He made an acquaintance with Lord Baskerville." she answered, her eyes down.
"Well, you are a very well conected young lady indeed."
Jane looked up, for it was an unfamiliar voice that had spoken, a male voice.
"Edward Winchester." the young man continued. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Granger."