When I was 16, still fresh and far less cynical or skeptical, I read the old style of Harlequin romance novels. The heroines were always virgins and no one thought about using condoms. Men were gentlemen. Women didn’t have sex on a first date. Romance was syrupy sweet with flowers and dates that didn’t include making out or sex. Don’t think there weren’t steamy kissing scenes and lots of holding and hugging and so on. The old Harlequin romances stopped just short of sex.
Now I’m not 16 any more. I’m somewhere in the middle of being middle aged. At least I hope I am. No one has really given me a cut off date on that. (I’m not really looking too hard for one). I don’t read the old Harlequin romances any more. They seem pretty standard now. The stories are the same, only the names and locations have been changed. (I read paranormal romance, I admit but I prefer science fiction, mysteries and less horrifying horror books). I still like some romance in the books I read but I like humour much more.
My style has changed. I’ve gone from syrupy romance to wanting romance to have something practical and real behind it.
It must be something that happens with age. I still read younger women posting quotes, photos and stories about romance, heavy on the sweet and syrupy side. I can’t get into any of it. I don’t see it as something real.
So, I wondered about my style of romance now. I do know that I still want romance. A little hand holding, if his hands are clean. I like the door opened and I like to open the door for him too.