Why I Don't Do Romance

    My parents taught me to read at a very young age. My mother encouraged the classics, and the best sellers, my father was big on Sci-Fi and old westerns, but both adored reference books. The very first thing my father did when we moved into our old farmhouse was build a library. My mother who had worked at her college library put it in its proper order.

     I didn't even know there was such a thing as 'romance novels' until I hit middle school. In our library, the closest thing you would find to a romance novel was Forever Amber, by Kathleen Winsor, that I avoided until my sister made me a bet.

     Everyone knew I could read a novel in a day, larger ones maybe 24 hours given the time. She baited me by betting that if we started the book at the same time, she would finish it first. Well I took her up on that bet, and finished in record time. I called her and told her, and she laughed, "I didn't read it, I just wanted to make you read it." She then asked me how I liked it. I told her I didn't and when I got to the end, I threw that damn book.

     No offense to romance writers, the book was well written and the character of Amber was feisty and strong willed, but she put all her energy into the wrong things--in my opinion. Spending her whole life chasing after one man makes a good story but a wasted life. Why I threw the book was because of the ending, might, as well as ended with "Tomorrow is another day.”

     Back in the day, I had my crushes on the handsome boys, all the parts in the right place and perfectly shaped and popular. Just like the book, they were easy to catch initially, but hardly worth the effort.

     Now if a girl wants to chase a body instead of a soul that is up to them, but that is not my thing and wished the girls of today would think of the big picture instead of fleetingly having an ornament that doesn't think past the end of the week.

    I like a book with  love interest, but I don't want the whole book about chasing him down, losing him then ending up in the bedroom, knowing everything play by play, and calling it love. Love is a mystery. We can't nail down exactly why we fall in love but rarely is it instantaneously, not the real stuff trust me. There is a passage in Jane Eyre that says it all for me.

  “Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! — I have as much soul as you — and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh: it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal — as we are!”   

      Charlotte Brontë. was talking souls and minds, not physical love that today seems to be more interesting to many people.

  Now I know some will read this and say "whatever bitch' and I'm fine with that. I might even bet I am in the minority on this subject. I have always found a person's mind much more interesting than an entertaining body I can't help that. I'm also one that will look at beefcake for what it is, eye candy nothing more. I do love the eye candy, I'm not that weird. And if you can find eye candy with a brain, a deep soul and sensitivity I say go for it. (Or whatever floats your boat, those are my weaknesses) Hell I even write about hot commodities such as these. The dream of a perfect looking guy with the whole package, that is why we call it fiction. In truth, one person's perfection is another person’s flawed character.

    I know many people who love their romance novels, and they don't get me, hung up on Jane Austen, the Brontë. sisters and horror stories. I like my flawed characters just trying to figure out what love really is.

   P.S.

       Or in the case of reading Stephen King, the characters love interest dies a horrible death.

    P.S.S. Just an opinion of my rambling mind

    

Brought up Brave

When I was a little girl, my father started teaching me the facts of life....

         The only person you can depend on is yourself

          Find a man that will admire your independence instead of trying to take it from you

          Never come home and say you lost a fight

          Never give less than 110%

          And never let them see you sweat

          Never settle

     I was taught how to defend myself at such a young age I can remember when he started teaching me. My father was a military man, retired a Sargent. He was also a boxer while he served our country. He taught me how not to punch like a girl, and where to hit to inflict the most injury or worse. I was a tiny little thing, and all he wanted from his princess was for her to be able to take care of herself.

     By the time I was the age I was permitted to date, no one had the guts to ask me out on a date. My father was famous for watching over me, and for looking mean as hell. I actually had to go out of town to find someone who didn't know my father to have a date, but by then the die had been cast...I was my father’s daughter.

     I had no idea how intimidating I was, being only 5'2" and skinny. Honest to a fault, independent, and took very little crap. I was used to conversation that you could not find with your average teen boy, they could not compare. Either they didn't make the cut, or they ran so fast all I saw was there tread marks. The truth was I just didn't care. If they didn't have the nuts to stick around who wanted them to?

     Let's face it, who could ever be as grand as my father? He showed time and again he had no problem fighting for what was right, no matter the cost. It was clear to anyone that knew him he didn't fear anything, not even death. He worked for the government, and was the union president for years. He was looked up to, leaned on, and respected. He was self-educated for the most part, and what he didn't know he would research it and learn it. He had compassion, and would give you everything he had if he could. He went out of his way to be a gentleman, and show his little Warrior Princess what a gentleman was. He in my eyes was a mortal God.

    He had told me not to depend on anyone, but he failed to see how much I depended on him. After he passed away, I looked for him in the eyes of everyone I met. Some came close but always fell short. He also told me not to settle, but as he had set the bar, so high there had to be a compromise. I looked for him for years and had no luck. Until one day, I looked in the mirror, and there he was. Yes Dad you got your wish, I depend on no one but myself