The Lifespan of a Fly

Love Stories Suck
August 6, 2010, 1:00 PM
Filed under: Generalizations | Tags: , , , , , ,

For eight months out of the year I have “literature” (a term I use loosely) and pieces of seeming importance shoved down my throat. I’m told that I’m supposed to appreciate these stories, essays or just plain out ramblings of a demented mind because they’re historically significant. Ok, whatever you say Professor Dude. The difference between and English Lit student and a Professional Writing student, is that the English student is told how to interpret, whereas a writer knows instinctively how to interpret. Perhaps because we’re used to putting ourselves out there on a regular basis. Our characters reflect ourselves, no matter how hard we try to disguise them. Everywhere in our work, the author hides behind a curtain and peers out, just to catch a glimpse of how much you like them. It truly is the strongest form of eavesdropping.

So, sometimes I get a little sick of that stuff. Hemmingway is NOT my man, Poe bores me, and Margaret Atwood? Please don’t even get me started. I can hear some of my peers right now gasping in horror. That stuff is all dandy for the school year, but sometimes I need some fluff.

I’m reading fluff right now. I recently wrote a story that morphed into a love story. I spent the whole time typing it fighting back the rising nausea. I was so embarrassed by myself and my work I didn’t even show Mike. Imagine my unease when I learned that I had to defend my piece in public.

Are you serious? Other people are going to know I wrote this? What happened to the murder and the mayhem that my stories normally entail? I blame in on J getting married and me getting bit by the ‘love bug’. Damn you love bug. Damn you.

So rather than recount the entire uncomfortable experience, I’m going to impart you with some small pieces of advice.

Ladies: Please don’t expect your husband/boyfriend/crush/whatever to act like the men do in your romance novels. Men aren’t like that, well, most of them aren’t. Look, if he builds you a fire and drags you to see it, that is his primal way of saying “Ugh! I take care of woman! Ugh!”

Men: I’m sorry about the love stories. For some reason they’ve given women the impression we’re allowed to act like helpless, swooning, bossy bitches. We don’t know any better, this is just what we’ve been told to do.

Build a fire, dance around in furs and skins, and go club shit together. That’s romance.


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I hate romance novels and a lot of the movies, too. Even being a fairly level-headed person myself, I watch/read those things and think “Man, I wish T. would do that…” then I’m like Oh wait… That’s not who we are, or who ANY real people are. Maybe we don’t have romantic candle lit dinners, go for walks at sunset and watch the stars, but we have our own romance… Which usually involves us have stupid nothing-fights or just watching TV. I can bet that once we put some music on tonight, have a couple drinks and start painting and working on that spare room, we’ll have way more fun than we would at a fancy restaurant.

Women that write those books totally want the personality of their friends in their men, and in that case I say do us a favour and swear off the sausage and become a vaginatarian because you’re making our husbands/fiancees/boyfriends/crushes look bad.

Comment by J.

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