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HelenKay has an interesting link to some bint who thinks that romance books are harmful because they make us stoopid women long for the stereotypical romance hero in our real lives, plus let’s face it, most romance is porn for women anyway, and we’ve all seen the effects that watching porn has on men, haven’t we?…erm or something like that.

For the sake of clarity (you guys know I’m all about clarity right?) here’s what she actually wrote:

Yeah, so basically she’s saying that most women who read romances will eventually find their real lives, and their real life partners dull in comparison to the dashing dukes, and devilishly handsome heroes, that most romance books eschew.

I’m sure it wont surprise you to learn that this columnist is a right-winger. They always have the best ideas don’t they? *g*

Now, my initial reaction to the column was, what the fuck is this bitch talking about? But upon further contemplation, I wondered if she actually had a point?

No, not the whole ‘harmful’ crap, because Lord knows, there are certainly worse things out there than reading romance, for instance things like a somebody stabbing a two year old child to death, that kinda shit.

No, I’m wondering if, as romance readers, we are looking at our husbands and expecting them to be like the heroes that we love to read about.

I must admit, it’s never occurred to me to wish that TTG would do something as romantic as carry round my button in his coat as a reminder of when we met. Apart from the inconvenience of having a button knackering up my washing machine, I’m not sure if the reality is as romantic as it seems when we read it in La Nora’s books.

Do we secretly wish that our husbands could be as alpha as some of the heroes that we read about?

Do we wish that our significant others would wake up without the nastiness that is morning breath?

Do we secretly wish that our S.O’s would walk round with perpetual hard-ons because they’re thinking of us all the time?

Do we also wish that our S.O had a twelve inch dick, and was built like a brick shithouse? Seriously girls, having a guy with a dick that big can be a real pain in the arse. *g*

Personally, if my hubby started demanding sex ten times a day, I’d divorce his ass.

Flowers are lovely, but if he ever sent me a room full of the stuff, I’d demand to see the bill, then proceed to beat him over the head with my hardback copy of Nora’s Born In Death, for wasting all that money, when I could have gone out and bought lots of nice clothes instead.

If TTG ever threw me to the ground, and started trying to have his wicked way with me whilst somebody was shooting at us, I’d punch him in the nose and tell him to get a grip.

In short, on paper, there can be no denying the appeal, but would we really want our husbands to be perfect little Ken-dolls, with hard abs, and tight asses, who can make us orgasm during penetrative sex, even without the benefit of foreplay?

Hmmmm… what was my point again? *g*