I admit...I'm cheesy. I see pictures like the one above and I automatically put myself in the woman's place. Of course, I don't think I'd be doing that in the ice cold water (which I'm sure it is), but the thought behind it is lovely.
I've had romance and love on my mind a lot lately. Anyone who reads my blog knows that my luck with men is just this side of nonexistant and that I'm becoming cynical in my old age. *snort* Very recently I had the...privilege of telling someone I liked them only to have them blow me off. Yes, it was a blow to my ego, but it also made me realize something.
Do I really want to spend the rest of my life looking for the "one?" Is it really worth the time and effort? There are times I wonder. Sure, I'd love to find that guy that's perfect for me. I thought this guy was, only to find out that yeah, not so much.
Maybe that's why I write romance novels. It allows me to let my characters fall in love, even if it's never happened to me. Do I wish the things that I write about were true? I'd be crazy if I said no.
The ridiculous part is that I know love's not perfect. I know there are ups and downs. There are unhappy times. Times when you wonder why you're with that person.
There's nothing I hate more than the trite "The right one's out there for you." Um, yeah. I stopped believing that years ago. I think I will end up being one of those cliches, living in a huge house full of books. Flirt with the lovely UPS man who brings me my weekly allotment of books. Write about the loves I'd wished I'd had. Be content being with friends and my books. It can't all be bad, can it?