On love

First things first, I’m not a horrible person, I’m no man eater nor am I a man-hater feminist type. I enjoy feminism but… well, we’re going to have a real close relationship over the next pages so I guess I should put a good basis on it by starting off with some honesty. Ok, here it is… I am a huge disgusting romantic at heart. Fingers crossed that God, along with his warped sense of humour, also has a well-rounded sense of pity and compassion, if so no one I know will ever read this. So there, it’s out. I dream of being taken up onto a mountain to watch the sun set or rise, a guy to kiss me in dark corners, one who will make me swoon when he runs his fingers over my spine and of course I am secretly hoping to one day find the man I am meant to be with, of course with whom I will have such completely and utterly consuming and complete sex that my entire view about life will change. Here’s another confession, although I do (as I tell everybody) read romance novels because they’re much easier to find and just as amusing as genuinely funny books, I also really, really like them for the romance. But here my inner cynic makes his appearance (perhaps my outer cynic too as that is the face I most often present to the world). My cynic (not to be fussy about his situation) is of the opinion that the chances of this happening is smaller than the average person’s chance of surviving a shark attack without being severely maimed. Achieved by pure luck by precious few. Not that I don’t believe in perfect partners. My parents have been perfectly happy together for 25 years and still seem very much in love, I just can’t believe the completely mind blowing, all-encompassing instantaneous attraction based on pure unadulterated lust that seems to happen in every single romance novel I pick up. Not that I give up hope but…
Another thing that bugs me about these books, not withstanding that there are some that I truly love for their storyline, there seems to be a deficiency in romance writers (part of the reason I have decided never to be one). It would seem that to write good romance novels, it is impossible to remain a feminist. Oh they have cool ass kicking characters (male and female) but I have never yet seen the female as the hero, disturbingly often she is the original wilting lily, beautiful, exotic, intoxicating and utterly useless. Even the ones who are meant to be fearless characters who have braved many adventures in the past, the minute a man shows up they all have deep and debilitating emotional problems which decree the man must be their staunch protector from this moment forward. OH MY GOD WILL SOMEONE GIVE ME A GODDAMN BUCKET!?
I am often to be found lying in a comfortable spot, in a comfortable position but SO TENSE, digging my nails into my palms, grinding my teeth and unconsciously jerking my knee forward as if hoping against hope that I may in some way connect with the arrogant bastard in the book as he does something unforgivable. Meanwhile, in the book our wailing wallflower heroines simply wait until he turns his back before dissolving into floods of tears of hurt and self-reproach. They never head-but him, break his nose, dislocate his jaw with a well placed fist or even resort to that singular life preserving reflex of simply jerking up your knee and making the bastard swallow his… arrogance.
This is my main gripe about the literary world today. The characters never react how they should. They take more shit that any self-respecting person would or could and still, on the next page they turn around and forgive their tormentor leaving us mere mortals simultaneously in a flurry of self-examination and guilt, trying to determine if we are in fact unforgiving and aggressive or if the characters are simply spineless.
Well I refuse to be cowed by the overwhelming tide of wet blankets. I have every faith in the accuracy of my bullshit tolerance, the clarity of my convictions, and I have to tell you, I would have no qualms about tearing strips off any sorry body who dared to do half the things to me that are done to your average romance heroine.