Falling in Love

I had already been thinking about this post entry before I read this column by Vicki Iovine about her love for "Mommy Porn".

I originally was going to talk about the fact that men hate falling in love once you get past "that part" of your relationship. After reading this column, though, I think it may be larger than that.

My DH is a sweetheart, but not romantic. Oh, he was at one time. I tell him that I was "sold a bill of goods", because the man I met is not the same man I married. Therefore, I retreat to places where men were men, women are strong and beautiful, and they have fantastic sex (or, as in the case of the Twilight saga, they allude to it).

It seems that more women experience this than would care to admit. Which is why the romance market is oh-so lucrative. It's "Mommy Porn".

Again, using Twilight as an example (since it's the most recent series that I've read). The story is not airtight, the writing style is a bit lacking in spots, the hero(es) are a bit over the top in their devotion.

However, I think the reason that women - especially moms - fall in love with it is because they feel like they are falling in love right along with Bella. It was really genius to write it from her point of view. Women can relate to this. I think moms appreciate it, not just because it takes them back to a time before kids and responsibilities, but it takes them back to a time when it was all about them. The "wooing" part of the relationship. "That part".

Another appealing aspect of romance novels (and, keep in mind we are talking real stories here - not dime-store-Harlequin crap) is the man is everything to the female. Protector. Lover. Plays with the kids and then fights the bad guy. Totally unrealistic, sure, in the sum of its parts - but desirable all the same. Those DDDD breasts in "Daddy Porn" aren't exactly real, either. Same principle.

The part that really sucks - and separates the two "porns" - is the fact that, while men may want women to be the same as what they see on-screen, they generally accept that they are not. Women, on the other hand, take these stories to heart and measure their real mates up to these standards. They aren't going to measure up, not in the least. The disappointment is crushing. Which leads you back to your proverbial heroin of choice.

So, you read more and compare more and hurt more and read more and...well, you get the idea.

Ms. Iovine puts in much more succinctly than I, so I recommend her column.