|The book that started it all|
Hello and welcome to the home of romantical skeptics and skeptical romantics!
First off, I need to get something out there - I love romance novels, I do, but I must confess that I begin each and every one with a feeling of disbelief and incredulity. I mean, I believe in great relationships and emotional attachment and love, obviously, or I may as well be dead inside. But even though I don’t doubt the existence of True Love, I find myself picking up each book with an unspoken challenge to its writer – ok sister, convince me. Make me believe the Happily Ever After and why these two clowns should get to have it.
|An early fave|
If my approach sounds obnoxious and disrespectful to those valiant scribes who labor ceaselessly to bring us stories of love – it’s only because I care so dang much. I want to believe, Skeptics! I want the Him & her to have their HEA and to go sailing off into the sunset or at least fog up their sex toy-rigged penthouse making sweet, sweet love atop a piano. A believable HEA is all I pray for when I read these things. Most of the time though, I come away feeling like I just watched an episode of Friends – something of familiar and obvious, kind of enjoyable but ultimately, rather forgettable. Other times I read something so monumentally idiotic that I want to fall to my knees and scream like a 14th century washer woman who’s just lost her child to the Black Death. Am I too invested? Possibly. This is what I am trying to tell you. It is literally my greatest weakness (one that I frequently mention in job interviews) – I care too much.
|Good example of hot pink|
But. Once in a very great while I will chance upon a story so sweet, so incredibly precious that my faith is restored; birds sing once more and the blackness in my heart turns for a moment to a vibrant pink*, and it pulses with new life. This is what I live for, dearest Skeptics, and why I risk bitter heartbreak every time I read a new romance novel. Because when the magic does happen…well, it is effing glorious.
*Not a pretty rose shade but the serious, hot pink that marketers love to use to represent girl-power. You know the one – they use it on everything – tampon boxes, chick lit novel covers, barbie's lipstick. Hot pink, it would appear, has been re-appropriated to represent some sort of post-post-modern female empowerment thing. Not saying I hate it. But it’s just painful to look after a while.