JessicaRulestheUniverse.com

I belong to the dying breed of hopeless romantics.

While my classmates in elementary were reading R.L. Stine, I was piling up on Sweet Dreams (the predecessor of Sweet Valley). Sure enough, by the time I finished high school, I had already went through countless Barbara Cartland, Jude Deveraux, and all other titles of Harlequin Romances known to mankind. Whilst my friends were crushing on Aaron Carter, I was dreaming of the dark and brooding Mr. Darcy.

After a cathartic weekend, I arrived at the conclusion that my infatuation on romance novels is the reason why I am such a hopeless case until now.

I believe that I am neither insipid nor ugly. I had high ideals of what my first relationship will be, at 20, I am still a NBSB and in danger of turning bitter. The problem is that my brain switches from attraction to images of matrimony in a second. I know that Shakespeare said that expectation is the root of all heart aches. But I can’t really help myself.

What to do?

I must admit that I enjoyed reading romance novels in high school. Porn was not easily accessible in my hormonal teenage days. The closest porn I could get my very eager hands on was my friend’s father’s back issues of Penthouse magazine. It was very tricky business sneaking a peek at those magazines. We actually had to set a date on which we would visit the friend’s house on the pretext that we had to do a school project. We usually popped in when his parents and grandparents were not around.

Now romance novels, on the other hand, were very abundant in my house since almost all of my female elders loved to read. All of us were encouraged to read. So, I read. Ah, the thrusting, the moaning, the quivering, the bittersweet pain accompanied by sharp cries of ecstasy, tumescent manhoods, jewels hidden in supple down, bulging body parts – metaphors upon metaphors upon metaphors.

A lot of these novels have actually influenced many a woman’s notion of love, romance and sex. A man must be tall, intelligent, assertive, well-muscled, brooding, brave, charming, strong, wild and graceful. The man must have the ability to sweep a woman off her feet at first glance in the midst of sparks or fireworks.

Women, especially a lot of my friends who have subsisted on romance novels since high school, actually expect every man to behave like the male leads in said novels. They sulk and complain while declaring “It’s supposed to be like in the novels!”. To all of those who hold such standards, I must point out that all female leads in the novels are tall with long silken hair, have firm and voluptuous breasts, have very flat and trim waists, have long and shapely legs, have very alluring eyes and well-defined eyebrows, and have an untapped sensuality about them that needs to be unleashed. If you women do not have ALL of these characteristics, I say that you have no right to demand that the men in your lives should be the embodiment of the fictional male leads.

We are so preoccupied with what we want in a partner but we rarely give thought to what we can offer in return. We often ask for something wonderful but have we made ourselves worthy of the things we ask for? You cannot pour new wine into old skin.

Time and again I have said that we should work on ourselves. We should make ourselves valuable. We should ready ourselves to receive what is due us.

EB, it is not enough to dream and fantasize. We spend only a portion of our lives asleep, the rest we spend on making our dreams come true.

SPOILER: It’s not that fantastic the first time. It’s awkward and messy. You also need to work on it to be good at it and be able to enjoy it. You know what I mean.