From even before I started dating I had a strong idea of how my husband should look, behave and make love to me. I was thoroughly brainwashed (and probably still is) in this unrealistic fantasy that romance novel offers. I wouldn’t say I am someone that is easily influenced as my high school days were without much fanfare, however if there was anything that could move me it was those mills and boons and silhouette desires that I started to consume voraciously since the age of 13.
Age 13 was when I had my first boyfriend and by then I had my first idea how my first kiss would feel without actually committing the act. Boy was I in for a surprise. Yes, my boyfriend at the time was tall dark and somewhat passable, He did not however had a ‘finely modeled/chiseled face framed with long sleek lashes but in jamaican terms, him could walk wid. I’m 5 feet flat and he is 6’ 3″ and quite large so yes, that part I got right. ‘.
The kiss though was not under the moonlight as I looked up in his face expectantly with lips slightly parted and breathing heightened. Oh no, he basically said, ‘kiss me’ and descended on my lips with no other warning. The feeling I got afterwards though was exactly as Linda Lael Miller or some other silhouette writer had described. I felt like I was flying, I was smiling stupidly and wondering if everyone would know I was just kissed. So, for the most part, Romance novels got it right in that aspect.
As I graduate from 200 dollars paperbacks (at that time in ja currency) I started to go for the more heavier stuff, the Susan Johnson mostly, I was particularly drawn to the Bradock-Blacks and their dark Cherokee good looks and their mountains of Gold. Yes, all men in romance novels are as rich as Croesus. Losing ones virginity in the romance novel is always done with such finesse and pleasure I was looking forward to that experience with much anticipation. Can you then imagine my horror when it took me 3 goes and tremendous amount of pain for my hymen to become a thing of the past. Curse you all romance writers for making me think it would be no more than a pinch followed by a feeling of immense pleasure. Of worthy note it’s always love-making, never sex.
Then it came to the big one. Love. Romance novel taught me that the moment I discover I was in love I would know. It should be easy like breathing they say. Well, unless I forgot how to breathe, this love thing was no walk in the park. In the books, guy meets girl, guy and girl fall for each other, there is an unsuspecting conflict (usually its as obvious as the sun), the conflict is resolved and in the epilogue they have children and everybody happy. Well, seems I’m forever stuck in my conflict stage in my love affairs. In life even when the conflict is resolved and people apologize I still cannot reach to my epilogue. what the hell am I not doing right silhouette? where is my epilogue, universe?
Finally, my current ‘friend/ex/bff/bf/dunno what the hell we are’ think my problem is that I read too much. My problem is he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. There is no way in hell he would ever even slightly peruse any of my 500+ romance novels and the closest thing I can get him to read (outside of Steve Jobs autobiography) is perhaps the Hunger Games series. Needless to say if this ‘relationship’ is going anywhere it is from sheer determination, from both of us.
ALL MEN SHOULD READ AT LEAST ONE ROMANCE NOVEL IN HIS LIFETIME!
at least one. Get inside your girlfriend’s head, it helps to know what she is thinking and in most cases craving. And though some may claim otherwise, all women are romantics.