I am a reader – always have been – one of my first memories is about learning to read (great story for another time).
Being a reader makes me look smart and I like that – I am smart – I’ll admit it and I take great pride in it. Growing up, I’ve always been the smart one – even when I wanted to be the pretty one. I got use to it though – at least until my breast measured up to the size, or rather magnitude of my brain, then I became the hot one – aaahh but I digress. I was talking about being a reader. When people find out I’m a reader, I can see the acknowledgement that I’m not just a pair of boobs and it’s awesome.
Pity, they don’t know that I’m a bit of sham or I have become one. I confess that I spend way too much time reading fluff and not enough time reading worthwhile or smartbooks. Except for books for a course and some fantasy novels – especially the “Song of ice and fire” series, as keeping those characters straight in my head counts as an accomplishment for me.
Nevertheless, I was an excellent literature student – heck I majored in the damn thing at University didn’t I. Even during high school I was that insufferable student (according to my classmates) who would have read the ascribed novel twice, before they had even finished the first chapter. Reading the classics in high school shaped my character in so many ways. Indeed, my fundamental philosophy on relationships is guided by D.H. Lawrence himself as seen here.
But then the day came that I discover Mills and Boon, Recency and Halequien and I was forever corrupted. How could I not be though. Tales of dashing heroes and grand passion swept me off my feet. One taste was all it took for me to be hooked. My teenage mind was fascinated by this concept of romantic love between two people, who came together despite the odds.
Unfortunately, I grew up and while the passion was certainly real, for me the love part remains a fairy tale. While, I no longer read the same kind of Mills and Boon books that I did in high school, my taste for romance has not disappeared.
Now I limit that desire to an even more fictional setting; in the genre of paranormal romance. In worlds of magic and make-believe, with mystical creatures like vampires and shapeshifters, anything is possible – even love.