The Hubster is great. He really is. I mean, hell, I wrote a whole post about how hot he is. There are also 30 other amazing qualities he has that have nothing to do with his physical appearance. I mean I married him for goodness sake! (Fingers crossed that was enough of a soon-to-be-rid-of-I-promise disclaimer to appease the Hubs from this post)
Right now, though, I am being seriously wooed by another guy. And I’m on the verge of caving … weakling that I am. His name is Ruark. Um, yeah, he’s been wrongly accused of a crime he didn’t commit, has a nonstop stunningly gorgeous body and says things like “Jealous? Aye. Of any man who stands beside you openly in public and touches so much as one soft curl and looks at you when I may not. While I must strangle dead the slightest show of yearning for you.” Sigh.
Did I forget to mention he’s a fictional character? Minor detail.
Here’s what it comes down to – I fall into the smut book realm every ONCE in AWHILE (and by that I mean on a daily basis … oh, and by “fall into” I mean more like an intentional dive … whatever). I kind of feel like I should be ashamed of it and, while we could have a heavy duty therapy session around that by dissecting my every neurotic issue, I’ll spare you. I walk around touting that I’m reading the latest psychological thriller or nonfiction feminist book, but we all know what I’m reading on the side. Wink, wink.
Although obviously everything’s changed since 50 Shades. That junk food for the heart (or for the you-know-what) has blown romance out of the water. My friend went to the doctor’s office during the whole craze and literally every person in the waiting room was reading it … including the one man that was there. For Christ’s sake, my mother-in-law was reading it at the beach this summer … in full view of everyone. I can’t even imagine how orgasmic the romance novel industry is right now (like that?) from this 50 phenomenon.
I do really feel bad for these guys – the real ones, that is (no I don’t). I mean there is NO POSSIBLE WAY they could EVER live up to these dreamboats on the page. These fictional guys are AMMMAHHHHHHZING.
This particular guy that I’m
obsessing reading about knows how to show up at just the right time … usually on a horse. Oh, and he looks into my the girl’s eyes DEEPLY. He actually gives a shit what I have she has to say! And I’m not implying our guys don’t, but really, who wants to hear about the lettuce being on sale at the grocery store (shout out to my Aunt!) … actually, Ruark does. Ruark really does. And he’s RIVETED by it. He likes how my lips provocatively form the word “lettuce” and he doesn’t even mind that there’s a few pieces stuck in my teeth.
And he finds
me her ADORABLE with just the right amount of sass and spunk. (Not the annoying kind that’s probably more like what I have – but only PROBABLY … jeez)
I think it’s only fair though because guys have been looking at girls with ridiculous bodies forever and there’s no way I will EVER look like them. Even if it was my job.
Which it’s not.
So this is kind of the equivalent, right? Because they’re more visual and we’re more mental … I mean, emotional … but yes, mental too … and yes, emotional. There’s no right way to write that sentence.
So when I snuggle up to the Hubs and ask him to say something sweet (yes, my pathetic need for daily affirmations will, apparently, never cease … although Ruark finds this quality endearing), I wait with baited breath for some of Ruark’s lines. Or maybe something like them? A little close?
“You’re really nice.”
Eh. I’ll take it.
P.S. The book that Ruark is currently living in is called Shanna by Kathleen Woodiwiss. He also frequently resides in my mind … but that’s besides the point. This book is my all time favorite romance. I have read it 72 times. Hubs has gotten to the point of asking me if I’m imagining Ruark when we kiss. No, honey. Never. Neeeeevvvvvveeerrrr 😉