Is this how Romance Novels come to life?
Moving to a new place is always a bit difficult. You don’t have friends, you pretty much move from work to home and back and when you do venture people smell that you’re not from around there and aren’t really ready to just go up to you. Needless to say sex, unless you go the irresponsible route is almost totally out of the question. This left me to wonder, is this how Romance Novels get written?
Do the people that write these novels move to a new town and spend several months without talking to anyone? Do they isolate themselves with only with pen, paper and fantasies to keep them warm? I’m thinking this is a real possibility considering my present situation.
Let’s compare me, if only for a moment to Blanche Devereaux. We all know her as the more promiscuous of Golden Girls, a fun flirtatious being who did not even let age get in her way of having a good time with a worthy gentleman caller. The comparison comes into play with my need for lively and fun social interaction and it’s only a coincidence that the majority of this fun and interaction happens for me with men. Growing up kind of a tomboy boys always felt comfortable with me, when I blossomed into a well endowed teenager I didn’t let this stop my friendships with them and of course became the arched nemesis to many a girl classmate, but I digress.
My “Blanchesque” attitude has left me at a loss since my cross country move to New Jersey. Reason being, I have no men around me. Say what you will, I’ve heard all the dirty names before but I have no problem admitting I enjoy the company of a man on a regular basis and the lack of man time has left me, well, sexually inspired and of course being creatively inclined my mind began to wonder if this is how the romance novel authors get their start.
I’ve always thought romance novels were cheesy and void of any real substance or talent but now that I find myself among the sexually challenged (it hasn’t really been that long) I find my creative juices (no pun intended) are flowing more towards that subject matter. It’s an incredible observation of how sexually charged non sexual things can become when there is a lack of sex.
I must find a way to channel all this pent up energy for something good, maybe I can buy a bicycle; that might take care of two problems at once depending on the path. Or maybe I’ll put pen to paper and write my own sultry version of Fabios’ last movie, I think I’ll title it, Seduction on the Shore.