The 1994 version of Little Women is probably one of my most beloved films. I never get tired of it, always happy to pop in the DVD. (The 1949 movie doesn't quite do it for me; too many inconsistencies and too much makeup to be historically accurate.)
There is the well-known scene when Jo accidentally singes off a lock of Meg's hair in a clumsy attempt to curl it for a party that evening. Meg is freaking, "I'll never have any suitors. I'll just be a dried-up old spinster."
Amy, still a youngster, flatly states in a rare streak of maturity, "You don't need scores of suitors. You only need one, if he's the right one."
During my dating saga, it has become apparent that quantity does not mean quality. Many of my dates I know immediately, if not beforehand, that it won't fly. Not that I don't make an effort, more like a premonition of futility.
When the phone stays silent for an unnerving amount of time, or if suffering a string of one-date wonders, recall the words of a tiny Kirsten Dunst.