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Lately I’ve been reading a lot of romance novels. I have no idea why as I’m generally more attracted to sci-fi, sarcasm, and things that go boom. But while I’ve been reading these novels, I can’t help but analyze the appeal of them. The man and woman meet, and they’re instantly in love, but neither wants to admit it. She’s a stubborn virgin, and he’s big, strong, domineering and hyper masculine. I can’t help but think that if a man acted that way toward me in real life, it would scare the hell out of me. Anyways they spar verbally, they have rough, forceful sex, and she turns into a simpering sponge mop who hangs on his every masculine word.  Sometimes these sex scenes border on rape and I’m left wondering if I’m supposed to be aroused or enraged.  The female in the stories never see it that way though. The rough sex is just his way of showing her how much he truly loves her.  Yeah right.

And it isn’t like these stories are male rape fantasies. Most of these novels are written by women, which is what totally blows my mind. I know, it’s all fiction but don’t we put some element of ourselves into our stories? Why do women (present company included) fantasize about men who we’d want locked up if they existed in real life?

Oh and I have to touch on the vampire thing because, well it just irks me. I may have mentioned it before the whole concept weirds me out. First there’s the sex with something dead. Yeah he’s reanimated, but still – yuck. Then there’s the whole age difference thing. Can you imagine the grumpy old man syndrome of a dude who’s been around for 100 years, let alone 1500? Honestly he’d have 0 in common with a modern women and her habits and mannerisms would drive him insane. Honestly I suspect he’d eat her shortly after hello – and I mean that as a literal meal – not the other thing.

Anyways, those are just my completely random thoughts as I lay in bed with a pain patch on my back while cursing the encroachment of old age. Hope the rest of you have a happy Saturday!