Oh, the Bennets and the Bingleys. Aren’t they just the most delightful group of . . . well . . . annoying and infuriating women you’ve ever come across in a work of fiction? The only saving grace is Elizabeth, and even she is somewhat hindered by the era within which she exists. How many times have you wished that at the precise moment the priggish Darcy generously bestows his good proposal upon Lizzy she would just up and smack him across the head with one of the fireplace pokers? But Lizzy . . . she, at least, is likeable. I mean, Jane’s too nice, the Bingleys are too mean, Lydia’s too silly, Mary’s too serious and Kitty’s . . . too . . . bronchial? I don’t know. They’re all too . . . girly for my tastes. Seriously. Are any of the ladies of Hertfordshire even remotely relatable? Can we see even a little bit of ourselves in any one of them? In the triumvirate of Lizzy, Jane and Caroline, can you find one iota of self-identification? Could you be one of them? Go on and ask yourself.

Which Lady Are You?

You just found out the guy you have your eye on has recently moved into a place across town. What do you do?

A. Don a frilly dress, copy the makeup off the model in the Lancôme ad, stroke for stroke, leave your coat behind because it makes you look fat, then head out into the  …