Okay, I am a middle-age woman who has found herself mired in the depths of romance book hell. I’m gonna go out on a limb here and admit that I might have developed or am on the precipice of an addiction. I can’t even decide if I appreciate that statement or not.
A year ago I would have laughed at anyone who would have suggested that I read a romance novel. Now, I consider “romance novel” anything that falls in the regency, Harlequin, Nora Roberts, Chick Lit, etc. genres. I read the stuff when I was a teen and got it all out of my system; turning to sci-fi and fantasy stuff that fed my imagination much better, lol.
So now, I ask myself why?
I half think it has to be I’m falling into the abyss of a mid-life crisis. People who know me would laugh their asses off at that one. I’m to levelheaded and self-analytical to allow something like that to happen. I would it catch before it would ever leap out of the gate and throttle it to death. I honestly just don’t have the time or the patience for it. Not to mention trying to deal with The Damn Goose thru a catastrophe like that.
A mid-life crisis would be nice though. It would give me room to breathe. It would almost give me permission to breathe not to mention lend credence to being pissed off all the time. But that is something for another post all together I think.
This is about romance and books and that I read at least one a day if not more. Just depends on how long they are and how well they are written.
Pisses The Damn Goose all the f- off. He wants to throw my Kindle away. It apparently takes away from him. Selfish git. It’s a damn electronic device. Like that can replace a human being!!! All he wants to do is sit on the couch and watch TV. Not exactly one of my choices of what to do with my day. If I’m going to be inside the house all day then I am going to read. Just the way it is. I’ll even repeat that…he just wants to watch TV or have me do things for him. Nothing for me is involved. I am supposed to be happy and satisfied doing things for him. Before anyone asks, yes, are many days I bang my head against a hard surface and consider myself a damn fool.
Back to romance books again. I like the ones written from the male perspective better than the typical female ones. The vulnerable male is more interesting. I don’t want a friggin’ effeminate vulnerable male though…ugh. You can tell when one has been written by a women who hasn’t got a CLUE about men or how men feel. It’s like reading about a woman with a strap-on, geesh! I like romance books that are outside the norm… this whole Brigitte Jones chick-lit formula gets old. I read one where the lead female character had a rare sleep disorder and the chaos that ensued kept the book more plausible. Jesus, now I sound like a book reviewer (sigh ).
The “why” is probably more straightforward. I just want one of the main male characters. I want to wrap myself up in the fantasy. WHO THE HELL WOULDN’T??? If I could find myself a guy like I read about in some of the books then I would probably be able to answer some of the harder questions running around in my head. Of course, I might also find myself in a bit of a quandary too.
These guys have to exist somewhere. As a COMPLETE package? I get that the physical appearance can be imagined but there has to be a basis for the action and the emotion of the character or else how do you write something believable for the audience? I have a couple of friends whose husbands are the male characters in romance books… at least when it comes to the emotions and actions. I’m not attracted to these guys although I tease my friends about stealing them. My friends are very happy in their marriages and have been married a long time and I can’t help but think this is part of it.
So, back to thinking that I want a romance book guy. NOT the idiot you find on the front of a Regency/Historical romance… ewww! First he would need a haircut, then there would be the whole wardrobe thing… if I’m too hung up on the appearance right out of the box than it’s not worth it. I’m not even sure I could describe my romance book guy. That’s almost as difficult as finding the words that fit the images and the rhythm in my head when it comes to poetry. I want- I want- I want someone who is my age or quite close to it. I really have a hard time with the cougar concept. I want someone who is beautiful. I prefer that word to handsome. Again, it is about more than appearance. I want someone who when I look at them I blink. I blink and then I smile with all of me. That is something that doesn’t happen very often. I want to shake their hand and feel my breath hitch and my stomach tighten. I know I’m going to hold on to that hand just a moment too long and I’m going to look back up with widened eyes and feel a tingle of fear run down my back. I want a guy who makes my palms itch with the need to touch them and some other part of me ache with the need to paint them. I want someone who can and will argue with me and be able to make-up afterward. I don’t need to be broken; isn’t it enough knowing that I break? Someone whose okay with more than but won’t settle for less than. I want a guy who understands that I have itchy feet and finds a way to assuage them. A man who really will listen (women mean that when they say it!) not just nod their head in all the right places or say okay when it isn’t. I want a guy who can wrap himself around me at night and hold me and make me feel safe. I want a guy who I am the only woman for and he shows it and makes me believe it. I want someone who headlines all of the clichés but not to a fault. I can deal with some insecurities as long as he can refrain from beating me up about mine.
Like I said, I want a romance book guy.
I’ve asked my friends if I’m crazy or being unrealistic. Some sympathize with me. Most look at me sadly and state flatly “The Damn Goose”. One is all about more alcohol, as if that would solve all my problems. The Damn Goose can’t even spell romance. Oh wait, yes he can! R-E-M-O-T-E C-O-N-T-R-O-L