When I first started publishing books, I was afraid to be labeled as a romance author, even though I clearly wrote love stories. The romance novels I knew of, other than Nicholas Sparks ones, had covers of a shirtless Fabio holding onto some helpless woman in a wispy white gown. Inside, the plot felt like an erotic fairy tale … The man had the power and rescued the woman.
The woman always wound up pregnant and married by the end and never had to work the job she hated again because her savior was rich and could buy her whatever she needed.
I wouldn’t say I identified as a feminist, but as a young girl that witnessed way too many women who allowed their entire existence depend on a man, similar to those paperbacks that were marketed to housewives in supermarkets, I didn’t find the male characters or storylines appealing.
I didn’t want some oily muscled man to rescue me. I wanted a man to understand me and listen to me and appreciated that I had dreams outside of him. I wanted his support on top of his love. I still want that, but I’m also strong enough to be on my own and won’t settle in life or love. Love should be about sharing your life and lifting each other up.
Right on, Sister! I’m with you on not settling and keeping the hope alive on finding a man to share mutual love and support with. A true partner and co-captain to navigate through life’s ups and downs with. Keep inspiring us with your beautiful words! Xo 🥰
Thank you for the comment and sweet words! I knew you’d agree. 😘😘😘