Smart Bitches, Trashy Books

I am curious which romance book taught you humor as you are funny!  Maybe that came naturally.

I wouldn’t say any particular book helped me with my husband, but he has periodically read a few left on the coffee table.  Afterwards, he shared what he liked about the book and even asked me to shelve in in the keeper closet.  His actions only confirm that I indeed found Prince Charming!

To be honest, they haven’t. Mind you, relationships and me don’t tend to be in the same sentence.
I’m a fairly emotionally dead person when it comes to real life, so fiction gives me people I can care about without the pain that caused my apathy in the first place.
Romance novels - being so emotionally charged - are the best for that.

For quite a while I think writing romance worked against me in the RL department. I’ve always read romance, but didn’t start writing it until several years into what I thought was my forever relationship.

The more I learned about crafting stories, the more I told myself “it’s a fantasy—this isn’t how real guys think and act; it’s how we (women) want to believe they think and act.” And I convinced myself that what I had was as good as it was going to get. More, I think somewhere deep down inside, I kept waiting to get through the bad times to the big payoff on the other side.

Twelve years, thirty-plus books and some therapy later, I’m newly single, happier than I’ve been in a long time, and ready to Not Fucking Settle this time around. In the meantime, I’ve got a career I love and family, writer friends, and wonderful stories to keep me company.

Feel free to use this, sooo very anonymously.

husband98—Seriously?

I suppose that you could say romance novels have been a huge part of my real life relationships. They just haven’t been published yet.

I met the love of my life over five years ago, when I had little to no knowledge of sex beyond how genitalia basically functions, and my prior “love life” consisted of extremely short-lived, overly dramatic or just plain sad “relationships”. Most of these relationships happened because I was impatient and in a rush to date people, so that I ended up dating guys I’d previously never even noticed much or in some cases, downright disliked.

I also thought romance novels were “porn for women” and didn’t understand at all why my mother adored them.

Ever since I was little, I had always wanted to be a writer. My dad read Tolkien and Lewis to me every night, and I had The Hobbit memorized by age five. Then, sometime around 2000-2001, I discovered Fanfiction.net, and dabbled in the trove of horror and treasures that is the world of fan fiction. (I’ve found that fan fiction, by the way, is victim to many of the same stigmas surrounding romance. “It’s porn for sad, lonely nerds; only women write it; all of it is crap.”)

But as I said, romance and sex were fairly difficult concepts for me to grasp until a fateful person came into my life. For the first time, I felt an irresistible pull to another person. I wanted to know what love and sex were like firsthand.

Did I have any better idea how to start? Hell no.

It so happened that my Very Significant Other also aspires to be a writer. And so, quite naturally, one of the things we ended up doing was writing collaborative stories, usually in “role-playing” fashion: each of us controlling one of two main characters, with side characters shared or split up evenly and the plot subject to both of our whims. Both of us also, it so happens, had a particular interest in character interaction.

So, you might imagine, it was quite natural for us to end up writing almost exclusively romantic plotlines. We were both- and still are, to lesser degrees- shy, introverted nerds with little romantic or sexual experience. Writing romance allowed us to get to know one another and express our feelings in ways we never could have otherwise. I wasn’t just dating one person anymore; breaking up would be like losing twenty of my closest, dearest friends, and depriving twenty more of their own loved ones. It changed my perspective on romantic fiction in the best way possible, because it opened my mind to an entire compelling and satisfying genre. It helped me to figure out what I was doing wrong when I made a mistake- and I have made many, many mistakes in this relationship- because I knew that I would want to strangle a character if they did that. It got me in touch with my own sexuality, and made me realize that sex isn’t something to be afraid of.

If not for romantic fiction, my first time would have probably been terrifying and unsatisfactory.

I don’t know if we’ll ever end up publishing anything we’ve written. (For starters, some of our earlier stuff is laughably bad.) But that doesn’t matter to me as much as the ability to keep on writing, keep on reading, and keep on experiencing romance. Especially with the one who introduced me to all three.

Oddly enough, the rape-y, obsessive, I-hate-you-because-I-love-you, he-loves-me-so-it’s-okay romances that were popular (or at least crowded the shelves at the library and the used bookstore) when I was growing up, showed me how wrong that sort of behavior is. 

My own characters (female or male) don’t stand for that—or don’t by the end of the story. 

And I’m raising my kids to know that real love is so much more than teh drama and that they’re worth so much more.  Luckily, there are several great romances out there as examples!

Overall, I’d say being a lover for romances from early high school on did help me in relationships as a barometer of what I did or didn’t want.  The heroines of favorite romances have one thing in common:  they are worth the effort.  And so, eventually, did that seep into my own thinking.  Maybe he won’t have to save me from pirates, or disguise himself to secretly marry me to rescue me from a worse fate, or deliberately lose a major football game to keep me from getting killed by the villain, but dammit, he could make a date and keep it, wash the sheets before I spend the night, and cook dinner every now and then. 

And yes, there is teh sex.  Learned a lot early on about what’s good for a female, and that sex can and should be good for the female, and applied it in real life.  Now, in the middle of my second decade of marriage, we are still benefiting from my reading habits.  Something new and interesting to try comes up now and again. ;)

Well, having grown up mostly as a reader of SF and fantasy, I always read romance with a similar attitude: this is so much fun, but nobody would want that in real life. Bear in mind, however, that when I was growing up, Kathleen E. Woodiwiss was the image of romance.
On the other hand, teh sex in modern romances is in fact much more interesting… and yes, more informative. :)

forms78: yes, romance does come in at least 78 different forms.

The romances I read throughout high school and even into college didn’t do me any favors because they pushed that “Mr. Perfect” image that can never EVER exist in real life. I chased that ideal for a while and finally wised up when I found a totally imperfect but wonderful guy. One thing that those books did teach me, however, was Communication! It can shorten the length of any misunderstanding! Which is great in real life, but kind of necessary in romance novels or they would all be incredibly short. :)

I think reading romance novels, especially during rocky periods of my life when we had financial or health issues, helped me re-focus on what’s really important.  Too often I think we can end up in stale relationships, especially those of us who’ve been married since dinosaurs roamed the planet.  Sometimes reading a great romance reminds me life is about the people we love, and that together we can weather crises and come out better for it.

Yes, you can use my name, Darlene Marshall.

Romances have definitely had an impact in my life. I didn’t start reading them until later (early to mid 90s), and by then they’d evolved from the “wimpy heroine/raping hero” style to the “confident but flawed heroine/strong yet sensitive” hero style. This enabled me to realize relationships are about compromise. They helped me understand I was worth something and that most important lesson - sex does not equal love. Something I definitely wished I’d understood during university.

As my life and reading tastes evolved, I started reading erotica which opened up a whole new world to me and my husband. Things we’d thought, but never had the guts to talk about or try, were now described in black and white. They helped us add new joys to our sex life and brought us closer together in the pleasure we give one another. Thirteen years of marriage and it’s only getting better!

Feel free to quote - Eve Savage. :)

met75 - not quite 75years ago

Wow, what have I learned from Romance Novels?

I started reading romances at the age of 13 or 14, right when I started getting curious about everything, but I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself, literally and figuratively.

At the time, romances were fairly Old Skool, and some of them were over the top.  One scene in Lindsay’s Savage Thunder in particular stuck with me, and it wasn’t until I was much much older that I had the mental capacity to ask the question, “Where would the saddle horn go?”  Then realize that probably wouldn’t be very comfortable.

But as a young girl discovering her sexual self, it kept me out of a lot of trouble.  Since I could explore those issues and feelings through the books, I did not have the urge to try to figure them out with some pimply-faced awkward boy in homeroom.  Let’s face it.  None of them were Fabio.  Also, in a lot of those books, sex was scary!  Oh, the pain!  Not to mention the fact that so many of those poor heroines seemed to end up pregnant after one go.

I didn’t end up losing my virginity until I was nearly twenty-two and by that time romances were coming into the golden age of less rapeyness.  Yay.

At that point, I had discovered my sexual agency.  The things I did, I did because I wanted to do them for me.  They were my experience, not something I did to impress or cling to some schmuck.

I had a sense of what I wanted from a man.  My first real boyfriend didn’t love me with a passion that could lead to my HEA.  I recognized he wasn’t consumed by me.  My second was all passion, but no substance.  I knew he couldn’t be the one to stand up for me and support or protect me.  I found my husband later, a perfect balance of passion, friendship, and support.

I recognized those things in him because romances made me think about what I wanted and what I liked in a hero.  They didn’t make me think my hero should be the one in the book.  If a hero in a book didn’t suit me, I’d usually laugh at him, or I’d throw the book at the wall when he acted like an idiot and didn’t treat the girl as I would have wanted to be treated.

And so I learned how I wanted to be treated. 

I am reaping the benefits of having an open mind, enough sexual power and agency to communicate what I want, like, and need in the bedroom, and a knowledge that every couple has dark moments, it’s how you work through them that leads to your Happily Ever After.

You can use my name.  Loved your first book, and I’ll certainly be picking this one up as well.

Overall I’d say that romance novels have impacted me and my relationships.

I started reading them when I was around 11 or 12 years old (I’m 19 now) and immediately set super high standards for myself in what I wanted in a guy. Things like Treats me Well, Spends Time with Me, Makes Me Smile, Compromises, etc. Things that are perfectly realistic, I feel. It made me choose to not settle when I could have done so just to say that I had a boyfriend, and being in college now I think romance has made me perfectly comfortable in turning down hook-ups in favor of an actual relationship.

Plus when I was in a relationship that wasn’t working out, I think that I was able to assess things to figure out what was wrong more easily because I had read so many romance novels and had seen so many different types of relationships. Not to say that I started viewing my relationship as a story or something like that, but I could realize that hey, our only communication this week was that text 4 days ago. This is a Problem.

And also, back when I did have a boyfriend, it really contributed to sexy fun times as well. I had expectations there that were probably a tad unrealistic, but I knew that they were unrealistic so it wasn’t an issue. It meant that I knew what I wanted and that I was comfortable asking what he wanted and saying what I wanted, and I don’t think I would have been that relaxed in the situation if I hadn’t read so many romance novels.

Feel Free to quote

I’m similar to Kerrie on this. I had a rosy picture of what love was supposed to look like thanks to the many romance books I read growing up. When I realized guys weren’t going to always do the right thing or be as hygienic or thoughtful as my romance heroes, there was a let down.  Even now, during the course of a book, I find that what’s going on between the h/h in my book affects the way I interact with my husband. He’s like “What’s with you?” and all I can think about is how pissed I am at Rafe because he hurt Gemma’s feelings by flirting with Leticia. Yeah, there’s some transferance.  Don’t worry. My husband gets it made up to him when things between Gemma and Rafe are hot and heavy. :)

I do agree that romance books promote communication as the root of a healthy relationship. Very seldomly do you see this to be false in a romance book. And the bonus HEA has to give some chemical reaction in the brain that promotes satisfaction and happiness. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve closed a book, sighed, and thought “today will be a good day.”

Liz Talley

Reading a really romantic and sexy book will put me in the mood for some lov’in

. I just started reading PNR/UF over a year ago and I could kick myself for not starting earlier. I prefer a dark strong UF with romance. I love an alpha-male that gets his butt handed to him by a strong no nonsense female.

I don’t mind being quoted

I think many romance novels are a lesson in What Not To Do, because so many involve the same plotline:  Eyes Meet, Love, BIG MISUNDERSTANDING, HEA.  And, like anyone else, what always gets me is how avoidable the Big Misunderstanding is.  All anyone ever has to say is, “Are you a spy?” “I heard you killed your last wife,” or “Did you make a bet that you could sleep with me within a month?”  I think romance novels have taught me to just be brave and throw the words out there in the first place.  At least then everyone is on the same page.

Romance novels RUINED my love life. Ok, I’m being dramatic. But they certainly gave me unrealistic expectations. Knight in shining armor, gentlemen, etc… The books never had the dude belching, farting, and generally acting like a chimp. http://www.rljean.com/novels-ruined-my-love-life/ Ya?

The good ones put me in a pleasant mood. Everyone in our family benefits when Mommy’s in a pleasant mood! Of course, the same could be said for any enjoyable books, not just romances…but my favorite romances have an uplifting HEA instead of some ambiguous or bittersweet ending that does NOT put me in a pleasant mood, necessarily. Those sorta make me mopey.

Permission to quote if desired.

When we were living in different states, my boyfriend and I would send each other erotica. Sometimes the only thing the stories had that we liked was they used our names. Reading those and reading romance stories on my own made it a lot easier for me to cybersex, too, as it gave me different ways to describe the same complements and acts of foreplay, anticipation, etc without sounding repetitive.

Face to face, we often read (different books) together, and I can make him laugh by reading some of the more outlandish bits from romance books.

And I know that some people hate the porn/romance novel comparison, but I’ve used both to introduce sex-related subjects with my boyfriend. “Is this something you’d like?” “We could totally do that position.” “Those stockings would look really sexy on you.” “I love it when you do that.” Romance and erotica aren’t as good as porn for introducing positions or outfits, but it’s much better than porn for roleplay or toy suggestions and introducing kinkier subjects.

I read a ton of romance and bonkbusters as a teenager, and they certainly did help me with my lovelife - mainly by establishing firmly in my mind what was fantasy and what was reality. I was a naive but cynical kid with twisted and divorced parents in a single-sex boarding school. Reading Mills & Boons (or Harlequins to you guys over the Pond) and Jacqueline Susann and especially Kathleen Woodiwiss and Rosemary Rogers all gave me a clear understanding of what men were never going to be like.

My big heroes then were Rhett Butler (I see someone mentioned him already) and Ruark from Shanna. I also really really liked Rochester from Jane Eyre. But these were guys in books, and another thing that I learnt was that guys in books could behave like complete jerks (step forward Rosemary Rogers and Judith Krantz) and that unlike heroes, who were rare and precious, guys who behave like complete jerks are alas all too common in the real world.

Romances gave me high expectations and a sense of the ridiculous. I love a good category romance, but I certainly don’t expect sane behaviour from any of the protagonists, who are all too often clueless nitwits who allow the Big Mis to prevent them from getting together with the love of their life for 152 pages exactly. High expectations meant that unlike some of my peers, I didn’t just go out with some guy because he showed a little bit of interest in me.

Primarily romances established firmly in my mind that love is something worthwhile, worth hanging on for and worth nurturing when you find it.  Yes, the emmenthal and roquefort could be heavily layered, but the possibility that love can work is one that encouraged me to believe that I too would be able to have a sensible, sustainable relationship. I’ve been together with my husband for 20 years, married for 16, and I know that without romance novels, my lovelife would have been more chaotic and messy.

Romances taught me everything I needed to know about how to communicate in a relationship and I credit them with my 20 years-and-going-strong relationship with my partner. They taught me to make sure everyone got a say. They taught me to make sure everything was covered—everything. No hiding that one last little niggle. It all has to come out. They taught me how to discuss things. They taught me that the relationship, the “us”, is paramount over the “you and me.” They taught me to respect my partner at all times. And most of all, they taught me to appreciate my partner and to express that appreciation whenever possible. He brought me a cup of tea, whether or not I asked him for it? Thank him. And tell him I love him. It’s the little, everyday gestures that show love more than the grand gestures, and romances taught me that.

And yes, they totally taught me about sex. They taught me about owning my own orgasm. They taught me about experimenting. They taught me about BDSM sex, about anal sex, about public sex, about making sure both partners enjoy it. They taught me about having FUN during sex. About talking about sex and during sex. I may or may not have practiced some of what I learned, but it’s all important knowledge.

Well, at first romance novels had a terrible impact on me because I thought the 80’s Harlequin heroes that I read about in high school were awesome… I had no idea that when a guy treats you like that it’s NOT because he really loves you and that he won’t do a 180 once he says the words, so I let myself be treated very, very badly (the novels weren’t to blame, of course, but they didn’t help).  Yeah, I dated a real-life Harlequin “hero”.  Tall, dark, movie-star handsome, wealthy, athletic, everything, everything.  Oh, yeah, everything.  He was emotionally abusive, dismissive of my intelligence, pushed me into intimate situations that I wasn’t ready for.  I could go on, but you get it.

Flash forward to the 2000’s when I picked up a romance novel and discovered a new kind of hero.  By this time, I had overcome most of my own issues, so there would be no more 80’s Harlequin heroes for me EVER, then I read Nora Roberts’ book “Rising Tides” and fell completely in love with Ethan.  A quiet, introspective, kind hero?  What?!  It knocked my socks off, not just the story itself (which is great), but the idea of that man being a romantic hero.  Wow. Since then I’ve read many, many romance novels with all kinds of heroes, some of them reminiscent of the old school types (which get promptly dust binned), but found that the ones I liked most were funny, kind, caring, and - to keep things dramatic - a bit damaged.  The best part?  That’s who I ended up falling in love with.  A new school hero.  Handsome, funny, sweet, thoughtful, shy, successful… my very own romance novel hero.  And I really do credit these novels for helping me look into myself to discover what I really wanted and eventually be open to finding it.

Sarah, you can use this if you like.  Just “Cris” is fine :)

Romances have helped me to think through things.  How would I act in this situation, how would I react to that, would I put up with that, what would be a deal-breaker, what would I SAY?  For example, Would I move across the country to be with him?  Would I take the chance of being able to find I new job that I like as much as my current one?  Do I trust him to be alone with his ex?  Do I care that he has a difficult kid?  Would I want to be with a guy who has that much anger?  Is he too controlling?  Romances have put words to feelings and experiences.  When the hero and heroine break up, you feel the pain, and when you feel it in real life, it’s familiar and less scary.  By acting out things in imagination, I prepared for real life.

Romance novels are over the top and exaggerated, completely focused on relationships, but that’s what they are for.  The relationship lessons are highlighted by being exaggerated.  You wouldn’t complain about a math book because it doesn’t say enough about ice skating!

You can quote me!

I tried reading romance novels in the early 80s, but the rape narrative was still prevalent, so I turned from them.  Strangely, it was the power of the women reading to demand and expect change in what defines romance that made me give romance novels a second chance.

I didn’t expect real men to be the same as romance novel heroes, any more than I expected them to be the same as fantasy novel heroes (and let’s face it, no man is going to live up to Aragorn, no matter how awesome he is), but one thing I found surprising was how sympathetic I was to the men.  They had feelings, thoughts, doubts, fears, stupid habits that got them into trouble.  Their strength did not mean they were invulnerable.  The most common tropes of movies, television, magazines, etc. about how men were or should be did not take into account their humanity until well after romance novels did.  Male vulnerability was either a sign of weakness or illness, or the result of a devastating event - not part of the normal, every day world of men as human beings.  Yes, I’m generalizing, but the exceptions only prove the rule.  It seemed to me that men were liberated in romance novels long before they were in other media.  So reading romance made me a little more sensitive to things my partner might not be showing or able to put in words.  While it would be no fun if fictional characters opened up and solved things right away, I wanted to skip that part of the story in real relationships, so by not having it, romance novels taught me that open communication could work wonders.

The other thing I enjoy about romance novels is the woman struggling for independence in a world that does not recognize her value.  Historicals are especially good for this, but I think they only highlight things that women recognize exist to this day.  To whit, even our literature is seen as “less than,” despite strong writing, compelling story telling, and regular inclusion of universal truths (or as universal as truths can get, anyway).  So women fighting to be seen as strong, smart, fully-realized human beings with something to offer strikes a chord with me.  Since I do have the benefit of civil rights (such as they are) and a more open society (ditto), the least I can do is sally forth with as much pluck as the heroine of a Victorian novel, grateful that, if nothing else, I don’t have to manage a bustle.

Oh, and feel free to quote me!

Romance novels have helped me in real-life relationships in a number of ways, but foremost in my mind is with sexual agency and negotiation. I’ve been reading romances since I was maybe 11 or 12 years old, and long before I got into a situation where a boy wanted to kiss me - or I wanted to kiss a boy, and maybe wanted to do more - I’d read countless stories modeling ways to say yes and ways to say no. 

Dress rehearsal, as it were. 

Romances also taught me to recognize and appreciate the funny, kind, sometimes geeky beta hero - and no one does this better than Nora. ;-)

Go ahead and quote if it’s helpful.

I wouldn’t say I learned anything about relationships from romance novels. They serve a different purpose for me. I didn’t start reading romance until after my 12-year marriage fell apart due to my husband’s infidelity. Those years during the deterioration of the marriage and the divorce proceedings were horrible. Night after night, I cried myself to sleep. Romance novels not only gave me comfort during these awful times, I think they help shield me from becoming cynical about love and thinking that all guys will eventually betray me. They made me willing to try again. So I’m still looking for my real HEA. No luck yet.

Well, I’ve learned that many romance authors are very good writers, and, since I think that’s it’s unlikely that one reads very good writers without learning something, I suppose I have.  Still, I don’t think a lot of romance authors really “get” male sexual responses very well—IMHO, i.e.—because much of what they write in that regard seems a bit too fanciful, in keeping probably with the idealization that romance fiction upholds.  But, because of the fanciful nature of romance fiction, any knowledge gained about real life relationships has to be carefully filtered, for regardless how complex the h/h relationship in fiction, it’s always made simple by the end, and in real life that simplicity is never possible.

What romance taught me? There is a lot to go from but, I can jot down some points:

- There were a few books I read that taught me love is not easy. It takes work. Just because someone gets you all hot in the pants doesn’t mean its going to be a cake-walk down the aisle. You sometimes have to compromise, sometimes examine yourself first, and talk to one another, not just humpity-hump until you say the L-word and have the Twue Lurve (tm) ending. Sometimes s*** gets in the way and you have to deal.

- There were some books that taught me just how stupid some behaviours are. I recognized my own actions in what the heroine was doing. When I stopped reading, slapped my forehead and exclaimed “Wow, she’s a {insert descriptive of asshattery here}.” I stopped and went “butbutbut… I done did that with Mr. X. Oh s***.” I knew that if I read it and it sounded dumb to do, mebbe, jes mebbe I shouldn’t either?

- Romance novels in general taught me that it isn’t about the bling, but the substance behind the bling that makes it last. Always the heroine and hero, at some level, just want to be with one another by the end of the book. I have rarely read a book where the heroine goes “Well… He’s a billionaire-playboy-oil-baron-secret-Earl-Sheik with a whole barnful of horses, six palatial mansions and a bunch of jets, I guess I’ll be happy with him. Oh yeah, and he’s got a magic wang.” Its always a little deeper than that. The person usually comes to the surface. The need for the person outweighs the trappings, and there is never a second guess.

- Romance novels taught me it is never ok to let a man take advantage of you. I was so turned off, in my early reading years, with the “force my mighty sword-o-lovin’ on you and you will love and loathe me for it” storyline. Ick. I remember never allowing a guy to just slobber and grope his way about, without my explicit permission, remembering how awful it sounded when I read scenes such as that. The “I can’t stop, I’m so in lust and out of control for you” line never worked on me. A knee to your groin will help then, right?

- Most important of all…. Romance novels taught me it is ok to fantasize, and dream, and take pleasure in someone else’s happy ending without needing to compare my own happy ending, or dejectedly pine that my romantic life sucks. Its fiction, its fantasy, and its healthy, but it’s not real.

I did not start reading romance novels until after the end of my First Real Relationship. At first they were a comfort to me, reminding me that I was well rid of that idiot because he sure did not act like any of the Hero’s in the books I was reading. However, after reading more romance novels I found that Romance is not about a perfect man meeting a perfect woman and living happily ever after. Romance is about a man meeting a woman and struggling to understand emotions and feelings and the changes that come into your life when you fall in love. What I learned is that relationships are complicated and take a lot of work, but that in the end its worth it. It isn’t about meeting a perfect man, its about meeting the man who is perfect for me. Romance has taught me to own myself.

free to quote

Alpha Lyra:

Romance novels not only gave me comfort during these awful times, I think they help shield me from becoming cynical about love and thinking that all guys will eventually betray me. They made me willing to try again.

I think that is a key point to make about romance genre. Bravo to you for making it through that tough time, and you HEA will happen, no matter the form, or structure. Keep swimmin’!

They taught me three things, even at a very young age.

They taught me what type of future partner I wanted. In my early forays into romance, it was one of the few book types not commonly in the house. So the stuff I picked up was from car boot sales and fairly old, and the heroes were SUCH DICKS. They were strong, and passionate, and mentally and physically steadfast, which I learned I liked, but they were SO HORRIBLE. Why couldn’t they just talk about things? Why couldn’t they just say they loved her? So, subconsciously I reslolved to find a partner with their good traits, while simultaneously actively deciding to find someone who wasn’t a complete TOSSPOT.

Later, they taught me not to settle. Young women are frequently taught to settle. With their high-school boyfriend, or anyone who is ‘good enough’. Not to say there is any such thing as a perfect person, as a soulmate, just two people with a lot in common who love each other- romance novels trained me into thinking I was worthy of adoration, not jsut someone who kept me around, thought I was cute and guessed they could put up with me. Someone who saw every part of me and loved me so fiercely it was insane. Someone who loved me, in short, like a romance novel hero. And I was told that sort of love doesn’t exist, that it doesn’t stand up to every day, that men are borderline dumb animals who have to be trained into humanity. But I looked, because I wouldn’t settle, I couldn’t imagine anything more soul-destroying, and after a lot of fun, I found someone exactly like that. And that romance-novel love has lasted seven years; sever ilness, depression, his terrible farts et al. AS I said to him, if you can both have the norovirus at the same time (google it) and still look at each other three days later and love each other and want to jump each others bones, three days after you were too scared to fart in case it wasn’t a fart, you KNOW it’s real.

The third thing it did for me is help me realise I was bisexual. I was frequently, even from the age of about eight, just as attracted to the women in the romance as the men. And it and a few other things helped me to acknowledge my sexuality and be ok with it. (btw, I would LOVE you to review more LGBT romances- I want to buy more but they’re so frequently VERY BAD with no details of the emotional journey) Romance helped me learn that the emotional journey in ANY relationship is just as important, if not more, than the sexual destination, and I think they helped with my self-respect in relationships later.

Also, the well written filthy ones REALLY turn me on, which is good ;)

What did I learn from romance?

First and foremost (I was in my early teens), the nuances of sex.  I knew the mechanics, of course, tab A goes into Slot B, and I suppsose boobs work in there… somehow?  But with romance, the varieties of the act, and foreplay, and female orgasm (took me a while to figure that out-things like “shuddering climax” and “shattering bliss” isn’t that helpful if you don’t know what it refers to) became clear and the heavens opened, and, well, here we are.

TMI alert: I will also admit that romance helped convince me to give sex a second shot.  (Two virgins + no idea what were doing + unlubed condom = Not Good Times)  But I’d read about all this bliss and pleasure and stuff, so…. surely it had to be better, right?  Right?  And Lo, it was. 

As for relationships, well….  my experience in that regard has been pretty…. um, what’s the word… bad.  But doing the reviews has helped me kind of clarify what I want out of a fictional relationship and a real one, so, well, hopefully there will be some movement there.

Of course you can quote me.

Oh, and yes, you can qoute me,

Reading romances has helped me become better at being in intimate relationships. When a heroine acts in a way I wouldn’t I have thought about that and whether her way is better than mine, or not.  When the’ big misunderstanding’ in a story is caused by a failure to communicate it not only annoys me but it reminds me to try and be more open and to talk more about what the issue is, or what is going on in my real life. I am also much clearer about what I am looking for in the other person because I have tried on for size the heroes in romance stories.

I also think you can’t under-estimate the role of redemption in romance novels with their message that we all get things wrong, and must consciously work on fixing what is broken.  From that I take away the idea that if we work on it and forgive ourselves and each other then we have the chance to be happy together.

I also have to say that the sexuality of modern romance novels has been a big help to me in reclaiming my own sexuality which has been damaged by disability. Romance novels normalise desire and physical pleasure as a central part of love relationships. They have helped me strengthen my sense of entitlement to this. I feel more sexually confident because reading romance novels has helped me set boundaries, defining what is in, as well as what is out. They have also at times been a practical guide.

These are things I would generally say about romance novels. Examples of specific books are harder to provide and sometimes it is the bad novels that show what not to do that teach the most.

I’d like to say that romance novels have taught me the importance of communication, because they really ought to have by now, but alas.  WASPiness, be it nature or nurture, trumps real life experience, therapy, and fictional lessons. I just can’t shake the conviction that nothing good can come from talking about feelings.  Fun to read about, though.  That’s sort of the essence of what romance novels have taught me: the difference between fantasizing about something and enjoying it.  The first romance novels I read all had raping heros - it was hard to find anything else back in the day.  I know a lot of people quite reasonably object, but I love them.  I even love the too stupid to live heroines who spend the whole book weeping and fainting.  I love the incomprehensible, asinine behavior evinced by all characters, at every turn, I love the cardboard villains, the plot moppets, the plot holes, and the historical inaccuracies.  I don’t want my life to be like that (particularly regarding moppets of any sort, and historical inaccuracy). I want my dramas confined to the stage.  But the ability to fantasize freely, without prejudice or judgement, is no small gift.  Um, I realize I made a segue that is potentially infelicitous.  Just to clarify: I see in romance novels how a little bit of honest communication could solve all problems, jumping us all directly to HEA, and I can draw clear parallels in my own life, and I wish I were better at that whole talking thing.  And the feeling thing.  And the talking about feelings thing.  This is diametrically opposed to my reaction to rape scenes, which is not, repeat not, a desire to incorporate them into my own life.  Or anyone else’s.  It is a thing that belongs solely in the world of fictional, highly sexed heros, who are helpless against the allure of the entirely fictional heroines, and their (also fictional) magical vaginas.  In this world (did I mention that it is not a real one?) I enjoy the hell out of the sexy bits, be they consensual or non.  Quote me if you like.

I’m fairly new to romance reading, but love it because of the characters and that I feel I can relate to a lot of it.  I tend to like contemporaries best, because the situations are more similar to life than historical, obviously. I think what’s helped me the most has been on the more intimate side.  I was a late bloomer, and while the blooming went well, there is so much out there in romance books that I have been able to understand, and heck, get ideas from, that I don’t think I would have gotten from other sources.  I have had partners who got ideas from some of the passages in the books and find things they wanted to try out.  i dont like everything I come across, but knowledge is powerful.  And they taught me that it was ok to be interested in and enjoy sex, not exactly the message I have always received.

Even though I know the books are fiction, I think issues that characters deal with are ones people come across in real life and lessons can be taken from them, just as we would from other books.  There are many aspects about characters, especially in Robert’s Bride Quartet that I relate too and have caused me to think about things in my relationships.  The book didn’t settle anything for me, but the act of making me think was an important step in some relationships.  And of course, the happy ending is assured in the book.  It is nice though, to see when there are really people who also get their happily ever after.

I also think the impact of book where the relationship is so right and the characters are good for and to each other can be a powerful example.  I tend to think Eve and Roarke’s relationship is like that.  It is real.  They get mad at each and fight, they make up, they tear each other’s clothes off, they do so many little things for each other without the other one knowing, they turn to each other to really talk to and listen, they grow and change.  They love each other unconditionally and in the face of all types of hardship.  I like to think that most of us do not see so many challenges in our lives, but they are there for each other and keep working at it.  And that is a powerful thing for people of all ages to see.  There is not always a lot of that in some forms of media or in the personal experiences of some people.

Feel free to quote if anything make sense
Bri

Romance taught me to aim high when I went looking for a man and to respect myself. Reading it makes me happy, and when I’m happy, the whole family is happy. It also turns me on sometimes, for which my husband is very happy.
Kate
feel free to quote me :)

Romance ‘novels’ are relatively new reading for me, so I don’t know if my answer counts, but I learned a great deal from reading romance graphic novels. I’m not sure why it took me so long to move from comic format to novel format, but the content is essentially the same (two people meet, fall hard, face difficulty, etc.), so i’ll throw in my two cents.

The first thing romance as a genre did for me was teach me about flirting. I guess this comes naturally to people, but NOT ME. I was stiff as petrified wood around guys back when I was a dating teen, leading them for the most part to assume I was either an icy bitch, annoyingly shy, or a stoner. When it occured to me to try a little harder on my interpersonal skills, it was romance that taught me how to smile, how to meet someone’s eyes, that relaxing was good and so was dressing nicely and looking as though I cared. How to start a conversation and make interesting small talk, as opposed to “how about that weather” small talk.

The second thing romance taught me was that passive aggressive behaviour is aggravating. Nobody ends up happy when someone is upset and then waits for the other person to read their mind, getting angry when this obviously never happens. Better just to have it out, at an appropriate location and time, of course. Serious personal discussion in public equals bad.

And one of the most important things romance taught me was that I had no idea how sex/intimacy worked, aside from very standard insert pole A into slot B sex ed stuff. The kind of things that go on in romance novels, I had no idea how they worked, but it sure seemed to make the protagonists happy. It prompted me to do a great deal of research and look up How To guides so I wasn’t a bad kisser, or a stunned starfish my first time. It’s amazing how well a little research goes over with a partner, and what it does for your self esteem when you have an idea what you’re doing.

Not that my first time wasn’t a mess. Someone further up mentioned the Bad Times that is two virgins. Research only goes so far before you have to learn hands-on. But, prompted by what I learned from romance, not only did we recover from that mess, we’re getting married in June after over 5 years together. Not too shabby.

If you think it’ll help, you may of course quote me. Amber G is my name.

What I Have Learned from Romance Novels, were it a term paper, and properly footnoted, would start with Freckles (I have them) and Girl of the Limberlost (wilderness was unattainably far) moved on to all of Zane Grey (discovering the young cowboy was a girl did NOT make the hero all rapey) and, in 8th grade, a foray into Nikos Kazantakis The Greek Passion, which got me big eyes from my teacher when I handed in my book report. And, no, I didn’t know about Greek Love, but I thought I knew about Passion, and discovered I was a natural at religious passion which had impelled me to renounce my church’s teachings a few years earlier when I realized I was looking for Passion in all the wrong places. Enter Old Skool, which was all there was for a while, and it matched my hormonal overload and the prevailing ideas that men were there to take care of women who would really be sorry if they mentioned the asshattery to the asshat.

Then there came marriage and children, and escape by library card. I changed due to real life experience, romance changed to appeal to real women, and the women’s movement moved us along the road, except for one arena that still is struggling to make it’s rep: the books we like to read may have to be inserted into a neutral cover lest someone think we are dumbing down our kickass goals of busting up that glass ceiling.

What I learned over these many years and multiple genres is this: romance is all about the LOVE. The Love is not just teh hornypants juicy golden delicious parts, it’s about the journey from I to We. And, since WE are all in this together, romance writers and readers could be saving the fookin’ world from an excess of Old Skool rapeygreedy asshat “passion”. You go Sistahs!

center58: paranormal randomness by the generator gets HS grd and political leanings in one

oh yeah—quote on SB—can’t wait for the comments and commentary

The first romances I ever read were by Georgette Heyer. They taught me to hold out for a partner who would share my intellectual passions and respect me for the person I am. I’m glad I paid attention, because I ended up with a husband who is funny, kind, supportive, and adoring. Thanks, Georgette!

DreadPirateRachel’s the name, and if you’d like, you may quote me.

yes.

This is All I Ask by Lynn Kurland is the first romance I read in my adult life and it really did change my outlook on relationships.

It’s ok to be traumatized. It’s ok to have PTSD. It’s OK to have flashbacks. It’s OK to be broken. It’s OK to be afraid of life. And it’s OK to not be able to change these things on your own. It’s ok to question your motivation for loving another person. It’s ok to question why that person loves you.

And the person you end up being with doesn’t have to be ‘normal.’ Sometimes you can only trust people that have been through what you have, and you end up growing strong together instead of having to go it alone.

In my teens, romance novels helped me deal with my disappointment in and sadness surrounding my parents’ divorce and continued unpleasant relationship.  They helped me believe in the possibility of a HEA, and escape from the disasterEA I was part of.

Since growing up and marrying, romance novels continue to inspire me to strive for the HEA, to work on my marriage and to expect dedication in return.  They also give me fantastic ideas for the bedroom.

You know that first brain-consuming intense love and the frantic pain that happens when it crumbles? Yeah that. A romance heroine has enough backbone to say “Okay, I am worth more. I won’t grovel for scraps.I deserve the whole plate.”

The ones who grovel, beg and resort to stalker-like obsession? They become the villianess, the other woman the hero needs to escape. I learned never to sink to that level of desperation.

Heh. What I learned from romance novels is probably a little weirder than most… I learned I was asexual. Because I’ve never felt any type of attraction for people, I’ve just thought they were pretty. It wasn’t until reading all those books that I realized what the difference was.

Seconding everybody who said they learned the importance of communication. Although I’ve got Asperger’s Syndrome, which really underlined it very early on. I can’t read people’s actions and subtle cues, I don’t KNOW social norms and rules, so I ask. You’d be amazed how many people get offended.

Two important things I’ve learned through reading romance novels:

1.  The man’s perspective on sex.  I always thought an emotional attachment was one-sided in sexual encounters, and now I know better.

2.  Enjoying sex is absolutely, 110% perfectly normal for a woman.  Even the shy ones.

I didn’t start reading romance until college, which is just about when I needed it. Romance was a huge confidence builder for me in the sex department (it’s okay to experiment, it’s sexy to talk, if a guy is into you he’s going to find you sexy even if you don’t quite know what you’re doing, etc.)
It was also a huge confidence builder in the be-yourself department, as I read about a greater variety of couples finding true love, and especially when a hero had a friend who was crazy about a completely different kind of heroine. That was enormously refreshing after the homogeneity of teen magazines and media.
Finally, and I know I’m seconding many others here, the repeated “OH MY GOD WILL YOU JUST FREAKING TALK TO EACHOTHER!!!” reaction to the Big Misunderstandings encouraged me to be up front and honest about my feelings, both with myself and with my partners. Lo and behold, that led to the incredible romance, passion, understanding, and respect I have with my husband today.

Oh my, what a question… this is a journey that takes us all the way from Clan of the Cave Bear (truly a mind-boggling introduction to sex in fiction) at about age 11 to my present day massive consumption of nearly all forms of “crappy” fiction (romance, SF, fantasy, historical, mystery)... with some notable stops at rapey-land, everything La Nora has ever written, all the squeaky clean Heyer-style regencies, and the recent glut of ass-kicking, mate-scenting paranormals.  If I’ve leaned anything it’s that I love Love?

In all seriousness, by the time I was 14 or so I was a heavy (if covert) historical romance reader, and I think it had something to do with the fact that this May I (finally) married my high school sweetheart after 10 years together.  Somehow from all that romance I absorbed the conviction that there really was True Love out there, and when I fell for him (at first sight of course) I went for him with all the single-minded dedication of any romance heroine. 

I think without that romance mist in my brain my natural practical side would eventually have taken over and said, at any of the rough patches in our relationship, “There are plenty of fish in the sea, you don’t believe in all that soul mate crap, get on with your life.”  But on a deep level I must have been holding out for my HEA—in good romance novel fashion, some part of me had that bedrock certainty of “But I SLEPT with him!  I LOVE him!  It HAS to work out!”

Kind of kidding, but kind of not.  Whether you think that’s a good thing or not is open for debate, but I’m pretty happy with my Prince Charming.  :)  And quote away!

I’ve been reading romance since the early 80’s, when I was pre-pubescent, and the heroes were Strong, Silent and Rapey. For the most part.

I was fascinated by the sex, of course, and since I was a nerdy little bibliophile, I had research skills at my command to look up what “climax” and “bordello” and “erection”—using real books and paper card catalogs, no less.

Also, “tumesence.” Tumesence was very popular in the 80’s. (I didn’t learn the term “whiskey dick” until I was in college, and that was, alas, not from a romance.)

Point being, I knew a lot about sex, both from a fictional perspective and a facts-based perspective pretty early on, which has made me a woman who (A) knows how to research stuff, (B) separate fact from fiction and (C) be really proactive about my own sexual pleasure. It wasn’t a perfect learning curve, but it gave me so much more information about the possibilities for all kinds of pleasure inherent in sex than if I hadn’t been reading them.

About relationships—they made me set the bar high. Not all “Prince Charming” high, but through reading about all kinds of heroines and heroes (and they got a LOT better in the 90’s and 00’s), they let me analyze what I liked or didn’t like about a particular character, and transfer that analysis to my own RL relationships.  Those later romance heroines made me think, first and foremost, what traits I valued in mySELF: intelligence, a sense of humor, quick thinking, the ability to stand up for myself and others, competence. And these are the traits I would look for in a partner. If those traits weren’t there, well…I had plenty of heroines who were just fine and dandy with living their lives by THEMSELVES by then.  They didn’t need some cheeseball “You complete me” thing; they were independent and content in and of themselves. When romance came into the picture, it was an addition to their lives, not the focus of their lives. 

I turned 38 this year, and astonished family and friends by finding and marrying my darling beta husband within a year. He’s totally not a traditional romance hero at all, but he’s perfect for me. (True story: I knew he was mine when he sent me an email with a link to a truly horrific bit of not-even-purple-but-black-hole-indigo prose romance novel, pretty early in our dating.  All he has to say is “lady softness” to me, and I’m cracking up. Heh. “Lady softness.”)

Also, tearing through so much romance gave me a killer vocabulary, excellent (albeit antique) etiquette, and a solid core knowledge of history. And the ability to make my sister spit coffee all over the table whenever I say “Conn, Conn..stuff me till I burst! Take me like the stallion takes my mare!”

Every. Time. (Thanks, Bertrice Small!)

pseud is fine.

Romance novels taught me about bad boys and nice guys (and which one I would rather date), about romance, that a woman could be passionate and sexy without being trashy, and above all else that it was better to find a guy who loves and wants me as me instead of trying to change for a guy or expecting him to change for me.

(Feel free to quote if you want.  Email me for my name if you do.)

I began reading romance novels around 10 or 11 years.  My mother and her friends would buy boxes of Harlequins at yard sales and flea markets and pass them around.  I tore through hundreds of them over the first 3 years or so.

For me, it was quite reassuring to read the “plain girl gets the guy” stories.  I was just entering that very awful awkward stage with gaining weight in the wrong places, gaining in the right place but not being ready for it, pimples, and all that other stuff.  I was not only an ugly duckling, but a shy, lonely duckling.

But I read books where the heroine was sometimes plump and plain, yet her intelligence and sweetness earned her love from a good man.  It helped me to keep believing that even if I wasn’t the beautiful, vivacious prom queen, I still deserved and could find someone who loved me without a miraculous makeover.

You may quote me if you wish.

Well, I’ll tell ya, with all these freebies lately I’ve started reading erotica for the first time, and I FINALLY know what a butt plug is for.

We live and learn!

(Pseudonymous quote fine.)

“Conn, Conn..stuff me till I burst! Take me like the stallion takes my mare!”

OMG! I knew immediately what book you were quoting.  Wow.  The memory whipped back into my head with the sharp power of a well snapped bra strap.

Dang.

SEE, I TOLD YOU!!

Every. Time.

reading romance novels helped me to realize that sex is not a bad thing.  my mom is a bit of a prude, and as far back as i can remember she drilled into me how having sex before you’re married is bad.  there were times that she would point out how premarital sex “ruined” the lives of my aunts (she lived for dramatics—sex did not ruin my aunts’ lives).  Even when i was in high school, she told me that the only way to be a “good girl” is to be like St. Mary and to wait until after marriage to have sex.  (there were times when i had the feeling that she wanted me to be knocked up by the Holy Spirit.)  She has eased up a bit since i graduated high school, but there are still times when i catch her looking at me as if she is trying to gauge whether or not i am still a virgin.

But as a young girl discovering her sexual self, it kept me out of a lot of trouble.  Since I could explore those issues and feelings through the books, I did not have the urge to try to figure them out with some pimply-faced awkward boy in homeroom.  Let’s face it.  None of them were Fabio.  Also, in a lot of those books, sex was scary!  Oh, the pain!  Not to mention the fact that so many of those poor heroines seemed to end up pregnant after one go.

i absolutely agree.  most of my friends were having sex way before they were ready, and i while i was just as curious as they were, i feel like the books gave me a peek at what was really going on behind closed doors, so i didn’t need to hook up with random guys.  in a way, romance novels taught me more about smart sexual decisions than my mother ever could.  Because she didn’t want me experimenting, she tried very hard to stop me from reading romance novels, which she thought would make me want to have sex before i was married.  if only she knew.

I will toss my two cents in, even though many of my experiences mirror some of those listed above.
My parents were divorced when I was five and from that time on, every influential person in my life was divorced and excessively bitter. I also had some pretty extensive daddy issues due to my own father’s frequent absence. However, I started reading romance when I was probably 11 or 12 (in secret of course) and I truly believe that my obsession with the genre helped build my own belief in love and in the fact that not all men are dicks who should die a painful and prolonged death. I also believe that my desire to find this perfect love kept my from slipping into the cliched behavior of a girl with daddy issues (i.e. promiscuity, sex with older men, teenage pregnancy, etc. - and I had friends who were doing all of these things). Romance novels allowed me to imagine being loved by a man and thus to begin to see value in myself and demand that others see it as well. I grew up in a small town and almost all of my friends got married very early and now have lots of kids and a good number are divorced. I have managed to escape that life, find a profession that I love and which I am amazing at (I’m a librarian), and find the love of my life (we’ve been together eight years now). I attribute my success, my faith in myself, and my faith in love to my rabid reading habits in general and to the romance genre in particular. A little imagination goes a long way in overcoming most of life’s problems.

As far as specific books - I really think that the relationship between Jamie and Claire in Outlander had a profound affect on me. That was the first time in my life that I “met” a couple who not only fell in love but stayed in love through all the craziness that life throws at you. I will also say that the stories by Vicotira Dahl writes always give me ideas to steam up the bedroom ...

Oh, I thought of something I did learn from romance novels, especially erotic romance. I learned what my kinks were! Before, I had no idea why some men would turn me on and other men, who seemed equally decent and suitable, did not. But after reading a lot of romance novels, some of which made me think, “Meh, this doesn’t do it for me” and some of which made me think, “Yowza! This does!” I have pretty much sorted out the kind of man I need. (And it has nothing to do with looks!)

Romance novels did have an influence on my relationships, and it was mostly a positive influence.  My mom was open in talking about sex with me, so I knew all about it.  And I’d decided that I was going to hold on to my virginity until I was married.  And mom had made it clear that it was a boyfriend’s role in a relationship to push for sex and my role to say “no”.  So you can imagine my surprise when *I* was feeling attraction.  I hadn’t been prepared that *I* would want sex.  I muddled through that mess on my own and decided that even though I was some kind of wierd sex-a-holic (I thought) girl, that it was ok to do it with my boyfriend, because we were going to get married. 

I was in college by then, but didn’t have girlfriends who were having sex and sharing details.  Then I discovered romance novels.  And you know what?  The women in the novels?  They liked sex!  They wanted it!  I wasn’t a sex-a-holic, I was probably pretty darn normal.  Go figure!

On the minus side, the romance novels that I was reading at that time reinforced for me that having sex guaranteed a happy marriage was down the road for me.  All the heroines I was reading were virgins until they had sex with their man.  Once that happened it was HEA, even if down a long and winding road.  So, I pretty much considered myself married - we’d had sex after all! - and had a hard time recognizing things going wrong in our relationship.  I was totally shocked when he dumped me and I was no longer engaged.

So, fast forward to now, when I’m happyily married to a different guy.  (By the way, inspired by my new understanding of my sexuality, I decided to have a short term fling with him.  We ended up married.)  Now I’m reading romance and some erotica, and I’ve definitely learned a few things, been inspired to try a few things, and my reading has lead to some great communication about all things sexual.  It’s an easy way to bring stuff up:  “Hey, guess what I read…”

Over and above all of that, though, is the fact that reading romance is a drug for me, and it’s a good one.  A definite anti-depressant.  It’s a luxury I give myself to keep sane.  There’s a lot of crap in my life and uncertainty for people I care a whole lot about.  But in reading romance I can get away to a place where I’m assured it all turns out ok.  And I laugh, and sometimes cry, but I head back to real life a little happier.  I love it!

Oops.  You can quote me if you want.  But maybe you could make up a name for me if you do?  Thanks.

To vary the subject a little. . .

(Almost) Everything I Ever Knew About the Napoleonic Wars Came from Romances.

Carla Kelly has taught me a lot about history, especially about the Spanish campaign during the Napoleonic Wars. I didn’t even KNOW that the British fought the French there. “With this Ring” has A LOT about medical treatment of soldiers during that time, as did her ”The Surgeon’s Wife.” You learn about the lack of social status of surgeons during that time, as well as the dismal lack of medical knowledge. Unfortunately, her depiction of aristocrats tripping through military hospitals for entertainment was true, but because Ms Kelly’s characters are so vivid, she teaches her readers the social impact of status, shame, ostracism, illegitimacy (“The Captain’s Proposal”) , and imbalance of power. I don’t think I will forget the searing description in “One Good Turn” of what happened when English officers during the Napoleonic Wars allowed their troops to rape and pillage the Spanish city of Badajoz, an event with which I was not familiar. If you want to learn about the long-term consequences of post traumatic stress, you don’t need to read about soldiers today. You can read about the horrors of being at sea without food and the awful decisions people have to make to survive and their later effects in her haunting, but hilarious “Beau Crusoe.” More importantly, you understand the emotions associated because of her vividness in writing, so that PTSD is not a dry subject, a list of symptoms. Carla Kelly should be designated as a national treasure—and I haven’t even mentioned her book “Here’s to the Ladies: Stories of the Frontier Army” about life in the west during after the Civil War.

Another good source of “learning something” is Loretta Chase. Like most romance writers, she does an excellent job in portraying the social lives of people in the past. But in one of my favorites, “Mr. Impossible,” the reader learns A LOT about the exploration of Egyptian ruins and the cracking of hieroglyphs. Her “Miss Wonderful” covers the building of the canals in England, the predecessor to the trains that linked people and commerce.

But the real strength of romance novels is not the factual knowledge or the increased vocabulary one gains from reading them. Romance novels explore the emotional lives of men and women and the power of love to change lives. Because they have insured happy endings, they are a source of optimism and hope for millions of people who use them to relax and to reduce stress. After 9-11, the new genre of paranormal romances reflected our psychological yearning for safety, in their repeated themes of aliens and supernatural species that “look after and protect” our country and our world, without us even knowing of their existence. Romances always reflect the issues of the day, whether it’s sexual abuse, changing sexual values, materialism, the issue of weight with women, the desire (and maybe discomfort with) powerful women, etc.

You can quote me under my user name, if possible.

In all honesty, I have to say that I do not think romance novels have helped me with relationships—anymore than murder-mysteries (another of my favorite genres) have helped me with traffic tickets.  However, I will say this: My husband’s non-snarky, non-judgmental attitude toward any of the reading material I choose is one of the many reasons why our relationship has been strong for almost 25 years.  I have friends whose husbands often give them patronizing/condescending attitudes and sly (or not-so-sly) digs because they choose to read romance novels.  Never once has my husband done such a thing.  Perhaps he knows he’d get an earful if he did (ha-ha) or perhaps he’s just a keeper of a man who isn’t threatened by his wife’s reading material.

As several other commentors have noted, romance novels made me feel safe in my fantasies about sex before I was actually ready to “do it.”  My mother was a nurse, and so she and my father have a very healthy sex life (something she consistently tries to tell me about to this day no matter how much I run around screaming, “lalalalalalalalalala,” with my ears plugged), so I always knew the dangers of sex (diseases, unplanned pregnancy, perceptions of sluttiness, etc.) and that sex with the right person is wonderful; however, apart from their teachings and example, romance novels helped me realize that, as long as I could explore sex in books, I did not have to have sex in real life no matter how much my friends talked about it or made me feel less “mature” for not experiencing because I was experiencing it, just not in a way that made me uncomfortable. 

I know my mother worried that I would have unrealistic expectations about men, relationships, and sex because she introduced me to romance novels (in her mind) too early. Let’s face it, not all men are hung the way they are or can do the sexually dynamic things they do in romance novels any more than it is possible for a real woman to orgasam fourteen times in one carriage ride as they are wont to do in the pages of the books we love.  But my mother needn’t have worried.  In reality, the heroes and heroines in romance novels taught me that I could own my sexuality on my terms, that I could respect myself enough to wait to find the right person to do all the romantic and naughty things I’d ever read about, and finally, they gave me the hope to know that, no matter how many failed relationships came before, when I found the right guy it would by no means be easy, but it would be magical.  I am far from being a virgin, but the lessons about waiting for the right time and finding the right one still resonate with me.  And now, as I am getting married for the first time at 33 years of age to the love of my life, I can tell you that it was well worth the wait on both counts!

P. S. feel free to quote me - Joanna Shearer

My romance reading history was a lot of romance reading in middle school, mostly for the sex scenes, and then not reading it much until I was in my mid 30s.  So I wouldn’t say that romance novels taught me much about relationships (crappy relationships taught me what makes better relationships), but they definitely taught me about sex.  Romances told me that sex was supposed to be fun for me as well as him, that desiring sex was normal, and that great sex, while only a part of a great relationship, should definitely be part of it.

You can quote me, Castiron or my real name.

(became22—no, I don’t miss who I was when I was 22, but it’d be nice to have that body back….)

I like to think that romance novels fill in the places lacking in my romantic life. While I love my husband with all my heart and we are happy together I know that he can’t do the same things that heroes do in novels (most of the time). Sometimes life just isn’t exciting and instead of being passionate we are just comfortable. That’s not a terrible thing but it does lead to a lull. I find a way of fighting that boredom by filling it with the romantic adventures in novels.

While the events aren’t happening to me it does evoke a response from me. I find new things to think and talk about, a renewed interest in our sex life, and a way to shake off the blahs. It leads to a closeness and a way of feeling content with what I have. It may not be a thrill ride or dramatic adventure, but what I do have is real and just as special.

When I was a kid, I didn’t get the sex talk. I got the “this is how your reproductive system works” talk. Being 8, I failed to notice that, while my mother told me that sperm fertilized eggs, she didn’t actually mention how the sperm got there.

If it wasn’t for romance novels, both professionally published and amateur erotica, I would have been very confused my first time. Fortunately, I managed to muddle through and figure out how the parts fit together.

Feel free to quote me; using my handle is fine.

I was just watching Cash Cab.  For the record, romance novels also taught me what a ducat was, and I would not have been kicked to the curb unlike those poor saps.

I’ve got a wealth of random knowledge and I’m pretty sure at least a third of it started with tidbits of information I explored because I found something interesting in a romance novel.

Romance novels absolutely contributed to my vocabulary!  Whenever a word comes up that no one knows, I can usually correctly identify it.  Pretty much all from romance novels.  Plus, they pretty much got me through world history in high school.  You name a time or an historic event and a romance novelist has researched it and spiced it up with sex.

I grew up in a very isolated rural life and a religion with very strict ideas of what roles women and men have in life.

I grew up in the pre internet / information age. Romance novels were where I learned women can be something other than submissive brood mares who do everything to make it easier for their man to be free to handle his role in life.

Granted in the late 70s most of the women in contemporary novels were stewardesses or secretaries but it wasn’t too far into the 80s when Dr’s, lawyers, pilots, ranchers and business women entered the plot lines.

You can quote me as Jill Q., if you want.
A lot of my experiences mirror what other people have already said.
I think what romances taught me that it was okay to feel and have positive emotions, to be an optimist not just about love, but anything.
I think romance, like all genre fiction, generally has a positive message.  You can stop the evil overlord, catch the murderer, you can fall in love.  Be proactive about your life and good things will happen.
I grew up as a teenager in the grunge era and I feel like having emotions (other than angst and despair) was viewed as very uncool.  Getting emotionally attached to a guy was viewed as kind of silly or phony.  Didn’t you know that lasting monogamous relationships were over?  The really cool thing would be just to use each other for sex.  Now, I have no problem if two consenting people want to do that, but I was never interested in that.
But I was getting another message from the media, from my friends, from everywhere it felt like (except my parents, they were good eggs).  I wasn’t interested in waiting specifically until marriage or until I met my one undying true love, but I also did not want to just hop into bed with somebody I didn’t care about at all.  I wanted my relationships to be more than just physical.  Romances made me feel like it was okay to wait for someone who I cared about and who cared about me.  And I did.  And it worked out very well.
Also, I was a plain nerdy girl in a small town.  The majority of the boys I met in high school were neither kind nor bright.  I had to hold out hope that there were good men out there, not just for me but for the sake of the population at large ;-)
The books I can remember meaning the most to me are Jayne Ann Krentz’s contemporaries that were coming out at the time in the early to mid ‘90s. In particular, Trust Me.  I still love a brainy hero.  I had read a few romances before, but that was the first one that “spoke” to me.  I remember the female character had vibrator and it was shown to be a good thing and not a big deal.
Made a big impression on a 14 year old.

My answer to this could easily be an essay. EASILY.

Sex I learned from the streets, from my friends, from an Owner’s Manual. Relationships I learned from romance novels. I have always been a skimmer. In fact, some of the most meaningful books for me were the Signet Regency line - sometimes they barely held hands.

True story, like this isn’t long enough - my grandmother was widowed very early and never remarried. She lined ‘his’ side of the bed with Signets and gothics for the rest of her life. If she couldn’t have what she had, she didn’t want anything else. But she couldn’t sleep alone either - so she slept with two dozen books. The titles changed, but it made me think those were important somehow. That the difference between what she had and what I knew had to be in those pages. The first romance I read was not from her bed. I never, ever, ever took a book from there. Not once.

Anyway, violent, dysfunction, am I going to have to sleep with dad’s friends including that guy with no nose, etc etc and here I am a tween and a teen and a young adult with no idea how real people interact. I don’t want squalor. I want something good or nothing at all.

I studied all the characters like it was my job. Two that really jump out at me are The Fireflower by Edith Layton and a Lass Small book I don’t recall the title of (was the heroine Pepper?) where the abusive husband from the first book came back as the hero of the second. (Didn’t work for me). Both were complicated relationships with a lot of relative moral choices being made. Billie Green was very important too - so many others.

When I began, at 9 or 10, I just read books. Then I started to wonder why one book made me happier than the other - why one hero was more appealing than the other. Sometimes what the heroine wanted shocked me. Sometimes the hero explaining to the heroine how she’d been mistreated in the past was like someone speaking directly to me. Sometimes the heroine’s reaction to being mistreated enraged me. All of it gave me a frame to build my vision of what relationships should look like. Not being able to take anything from the people around me, I read grocery bag after grocery bag full of used books and decided what I wanted in my life.

My relationship is coming up on it’s 3rd decade. It’s as good as it gets, in my opinion, while still being one between two human beings. I don’t know how I would have appreciated it or built it without the tools for understanding it that genre fiction gave me.

Well, without getting too explicit, I know that romance novels have benefited my sex life.  I’ve been with (carry the three, divide by 10…) one guy, the one I’m married to.  So going into things, reading Nora Roberts at least gave me a frame of reference for some ways to try things.  My then boyfriend, now husband, well, he’s never complained.

Ok, so, sex.

I do disagree with you on that, a bit. I don’t think that there is anything wrong with reading about sex honestly, but I do think that there is a real place for romance that deals in detail with emotions but not in detail with sex.

Girls with low self esteem substitute sexual availability for emotional availability so easily. I knew girls who copied “what I will do to you’ passages right out of books and mailed them to boys they hoped to acquire through the promise and performance of such deeds. 13 years old and in orgies or ‘poly’ relationships to prove devotion, into all kinds of things that who knows if they were really into? 13 year olds having sex to ‘prove’ they loved him more than another girl - thinking constant sex meant they loved each other.

Messed up.

So when I read “omg, we banged into the wall and he pounded me senseless and then I knew I loved him” in ever increasing details - it’s just a Penthouse letter to me. It’s a 13 year old girl sitting on a wall telling her friends that banging his friends was how she knew they were for real, because they could be so honest with each other.

Many of the heroines in these books are girls. Girls by life circumstance, girls by genre convention, not people I trust to separate sex from healthy involvement. I feel sorry for some of them, I wonder where they got damaged, I wonder if the couples have anything in common out of bed. I wonder what a girl who was like me is getting from all this sexual honesty.

I don’t disapprove of sex. I wish the market would be honest about what’s erotica, what’s romance, what’s porn - because it’s not all the same and it’s silly acting like it is to avoid defining it. Everything O does in The Story Of is revealed in Return To Roissy. It’s not filled with the meaning she gave it. I feel that way about a lot of the sexxxy books.

Dear SB Sarah,

You asked for some answers about how romance novels helped you with real life relationships. Specifically if they have helped.

For me, the answer is—No.

It’s not for a lack of trying to find a way to say yes to your question. Honest. But I find that, no, they haven’t because I don’t take them seriously as an example of “what to do in a relationship”. I think it may have something to do with the fact that, for me, romance novels are brain candy, and somewhat unrealistic because of how they always have a happy ending.

Because, let’s face it, if I did take some of what I’ve read in romance novels as “what to do in a relationship”, I would:

A) commit rape (as in Judith McNaught’s classic “Whitney my Love”) and then get him to love me after my transgression because I’m a “great gal” and I’d technically bought him

B) buy my way out of trouble (the most recent read, Accidentally Yours, has a billionaire buying things & offering a glitzy time)

C) manipulate children through cool trips and/or an awesome dog in order to get into the pants of the sexy man next door (assuming that a) there is a sexy man next door, and b) that he has a child to manipulate through, I don’t know, milk and cookies, or Mario Brothers computer games) (another Nora Roberts novel, Local Hero).

D) run away - to a new place (Nora Roberts’ Impulse), to home and the safety net that I have there (one of Nora Roberts’ Bride quartet novels), to a neighbour (Judith McNaught’s novel, Once and Always), just Not To Him.

(and I read way too much Nora Roberts from this)

But I can hear you say, what about their communication? Or their inability to communicate? Hasn’t that taught you anything?

Uh … no.

I admit to being dense in the sense that romance novels try to teach us how to resolve conflicts when they first occur. But honestly? Not all conflicts are resolved when they occur, and b) not all conflicts CAN be resolved when they first occurred. And, most importantly, not all conflicts are somehow resolved with a smile and a tussle in the ol’ sackarooney, as seems to be the most frequent method of conflict resolution in romance novels. Men in romance novels are either Very Reasonable (read: just don’t care about the woman’s point of view and decide to plow ahead with their own PoV anyway) or Very Sullen, of which they end up being horribly mistaken in their sullenness and end up being awesome men in relationships.

I’m sorry. W.T.F.?

Maybe it’s the romance novels that I read. Maybe I need new romance novels to get a different take on men.

Conflict in romance novels seems contrived to me. The conflict isn’t about the man’s perception of the female’s ability to manage time well but not understanding that everyone needs a fluff day once in a while, but more about how YOU LIED TO ME ABOUT YOUR VIRGINITY or something like that. Whatever the conflict is, it is SOMETHING BIG. It’s not about how tidy the heroine keeps the house and how the hero wishes she’d keep a cleaner house. It’s not about washing the effin’ dishes or how the guy is a bed hog and you need a good night’s sleep for working the next day. It’s a YOU CHEATED ME OUT OF X BIG DEAL kind of deal.

That just doesn’t happen to me. I guess I sweat the small stuff.

So, no. I haven’t learned anything relationship-wise from reading romance. I guess my lessons have all been trial and error—you didn’t speak up then, so when something similar happens, SPEAK UP. If you don’t like a trait about someone, either learn to live with it, or figure out how to, because unless he wants to change it, it ain’t happening. You can’t change someone - you can only change yourself. Ad nauseum.

Or maybe it’s just because I go, “Mmm. Romance.” kind of the way that Homer Simpson goes, “Mmmm. Donut.”.

(and feel free to quote)

It isn’t that a particular romance novel has helped my relationship with my husband, but it was his complete acceptance of the fact that I read them that helped. I used to be a closet reader; I’d buy a category on a night I knew my husband would be out late (which was regularly, since he’s a musician) and read it in that evening. If he came home early, I’d hide it under my pillow. And I kept them in a spot he never looked. We’d been married for seven years before he saw me read a romance novel, and that’s mostly because I started getting longer contemporaries from the library and couldn’t always put them down. He was nonplussed that I’d hidden them from him all those years. I felt so secure in his love for me as me and not an idea or certain expectations he might have for me—it was freeing. And led to a great deal of fun: I started to let him know before I finished a novel that “this was a good one,” which was code for, “I’ll be in the mood for love just as soon as the book is done.” It’s the sex in the books, yes, but it’s also the triumph of love. I appreciate that romance novels keep me believing in love, in the ways a good love can change not just a person, but a community.

Feel free to quote, using the name I use here.

1) I decided that damaged, brooding, tormented heroes really aren’t attractive.  There’s no strength or desire in me to engage their demons; I have my own.

I passed on a romance with a troubled man in favor of one with my husband,  a transparent, peaceable, optimistic man who had a happy childhood.  We were very young when we met.  Of course life has given us grief and struggle in the years since, but life does that, if you live long enough.

The odd thing is, my husband DOES find damaged, hurt women attractive.  He wants to fix them and make them happy which was my good luck.  But since I do not find anger, depression and pain attractive, and I know they’re not good for children, I give my family the best of me that I can.

2) This is what romance novels never never told me, but life has - It is fantasy - foolishness if you expect it in life - to think that you can be the heroine who tames the alpha rake and turns him into a devoted faithful husband, all for the love of you.  It is much more sensible to start off with the nice guy who loves you and wants to be true, and then shift him over towards alpha.

And yes, you can publish and attribute to the name above.

When I was 13 or 14, my girlfriends and I passed around a dog-eared romance novel (something set on an imaginary planet with a heroine who had silver hair)—it was dog-eared at all the racey bits. My sexual education at that point had consisted of several conversations with my mom and a copy of The What’s Happening to Your Body Book for Girls—and sneak peaks at the boy’s version in my brother’s room.  I believe my only working description of sex had been “the man places his penis in the woman’s vagina,” and the pen and ink cross section of a couple in the missionary position seemed to confirm this.  Now, I don’t remember anything from that dog-eared book except the word “thrusting” and that it was used more than once.  This totally rocked my world.  My mom had Not mentioned thrusting—nor had my trusty reference materials.  The conversation with my much better-informed friend went something like this:

Me: I don’t know about you, but I don’t really believe everything in that book.

Friend: Yeah, I know—simultaneous orgasm almost never happens.

Me:  blink—blink,blink.

Friend:  Why?  What were talking about?

Me: That. The orgasm thing.

Now, why I hadn’t put two and two together (because I was not ignorant to orgasms and how those came about—for sheltered 14-year-old girls, anyway), I don’t know.  But, we didn’t have the internet back then, and I didn’t even have cable.

Practical things aside, I think discovering your own sexuality is a healthy part of development that helps tremendously once you’re in a sexual relationship.  For me, reading romance was a part of that development.  I remember having it very clear in my mind at 15 that while I didn’t want a man to love me for my body, I wanted to experience a man loving my body.  This seemed to be a fairly subversive idea both for someone well-ensconsed in her church youth group and who was growing up in an area with strong feminist influences.  But it’s nothing more than what we all want—to be desired and to be loved.  Romance got me honest about this and down off some of the pillars of ideology (both religious and feminist) I’d been standing on.

Romance was my first sex ed. My grandma had a lot of the alpha male romances from the 80’s that I wasn’t allowed to read. I did anyway—when I was at her house for a night I would sneak “No Other Man” by Shannon Drake (which is actually a really horrible novel) to the little room I was staying in and learn about “golden mounds” and “throbbing sexes.”

Later when I was 10 I asked Dad where babies came from just so my parents felt like they had given me “the talk” even though I already knew the facts.

oh and you can quote me, pseudonym will work

I don’t have a particular book to cite just my general experience of reading Romance.  I grew up in a very undemonstrative family.  I’ve seen my parents express affection to each other maybe twice in my life.  Reading Romance exposed me to the variations in courtship and relationships.  It opened my eyes to how romantic relationships can be different from what I was raised with.

Romance opens up new realms of possibility.  Isn’t that what reading, and fiction especially, are about - exposing ourselves to possibilities and stimulating our imaginations?  As a reader, Romance shows me relationships and I get to be the ultimate judge of their quality.  I get to say “No, I would never stand for that” or “What a creep” or “Awesome.”

Romance novels have impacted my relationship and my life in two ways.  The first way is by relaxing some of my more ridge beliefs about what it means to be a strong woman and a feminist.  I use to feel very uncomfortable with the idea of marriage or relying on a guy.  I don’t think its a coincidence that about the time I started really consuming romance novels I also finally agreed to marry my boyfriend of 8 years.  Obviously that’s not the only reason we’re getting married but I do think it helped me feel more comfortable with being an independent woman and making the commitment of marriage.

I also think romance novels have a direct impact on my overall quality of life/stress levels, which indirectly helps my relationship. I work in a somewhat depressing and stressful field (chronic illness, mental illness, suicide…rewarding work but it can wear on you) and the romance novels allow me to escape to a place where I know there is ALWAYS a happy ending.  I find its one of the few ways I can relax

I’ll come back and answer the question (probably after I get some sleep, hah)—but I had to comment on “wearing beaver suit while hitchhiking”.  I love that series.

Marie K: Oh my, what a question… this is a journey that takes us all the way from Clan of the Cave Bear (truly a mind-boggling introduction to sex in fiction)

Me too! I’ve long wanted to see some sort of proper survey of how many women of my generation (I’m 32) were first introduced to sex in fiction through Jean Auel. I suspect it’s a very high number!

Came back to read everyone’s replies, and realized I forgot something: Feel free to quote me under this pseudonym, if you want! (My real name is, sadly, inconsequential.)

Reading Victoria Dahl’s Start Me Up was something of a turning point for me. Like the heroine, Lori, I’m into submission. But I haven’t really read any BDSM romance - it kind of looks too intense for me. And when I was reading SMU, I was in a relationship with a guy who didn’t really get it. I had this fear that no normal, nice guy like that boyfriend would ever be into these things. But Quinn, the hero, totally fits that bill! And that led to me thinking about it and realizing that my desires are my desires, and there definitely are men who share them and men who can be convinced to check them out, so whatever, fuck those guys who can’t deal with them. I mean, don’t fuck them.

I think for most, reading romance are for fun!times and not necessarily to be taken For Serious. In fact, I find taking them For Serious is usually a major danger sign. To put this in context, I work at a girls high school. As with most girls at that age, they are boy-crazy and Edward Cullen is, like, the dreamiest thing EVER, has been for a couple school years now. Having been a silly teenage girl once, I get why he’s the reigning poster boy (I did read the first Twilight book to see what all the fuss was about) ... great hair and intense eye-sexxoring with frenzied declarations of love are a-ok; emotional abuse and controlling behavior are NOT good boyfriend behavior. Yet what I call abuse, they see as further evidence of Big!Undying!Cinematic!Love! Which, ya know, is worrying to this old fuddy-dud. I don’t stump in the hallways to rid the building of Twilight; I don’t offer unsolicited advice on which hottie to take to the school dances though I try and offer sympathetic and sensible advice where required; but I worry for the girls who are a bit lacking in the common sense arena who think that when they find their Edward, they’re on the quick, easy road to HEA. There IS a very clear divide between what’s romantic and acceptable in fiction and in real life; as adults, we can see it, can provide the perspective necessary—kids, maybe not so much.

In the spirit of full disclosure—my HS crush was on Troy Dyer (from Reality Bites) and it took dating a “Troy” in freshman year of college to realize… he’s a self-involved dick who’s not worth my time or my love. So while I enjoy reading about those brooding alpha rakes, I know that the dreamboat I’m looking for will be considerably more beta. :)

This is embarrassingly shallow to admit, but I initially read romances as a teenage boy for the naughty bits. But even then, there was something useful. They planted the ideas that women can be just as sexual as men, that things like oral or foreplay aren’t “un-manly”, and a bit of sensitivity and willingness to communicate honestly can avoid a lot of aggravation later on. The actual sex ed material I got was all about the bare mechanics, so romances were largely my introduction to the emotions that accompanied the act, and confirmation that yes, women actually enjoyed sex as much as men did.

Quote if you like. :)

I had to also mention that from romance novels I learned enough about history and art that I kicked butt at trivial pusuit!

I think romance novels had a mixed impact on me. The first part was actually very positive. I grew up with a very dysfunctional (and conservative) family, and for a while I liked the typical “big misunderstanding” plots. From my point of view, they reflected reality. Plus the bodice rippers seemed to reflect some sort of reality as well, in the sense that the woman was the “good girl” overcome by a hero/her own passion.

The big change came for me when I started reading romance discussion boards, and heard people saying that such heroes are jerks in real life, and “why they don’t just talk to each other”. Seeing these reactions from other people opened for me a new way to look at things. Eventually, it motivated me to get into therapy, learn better patterns and better relationships.

Now for the mixed part. At the same time, I sort of feel like the romances led me to develop really high expectations of what I want. So my romantic life is practically non-existent now. This may change, of course. But I wonder sometimes if I am reading so much and fantasizing too much about fictional heroes, rather than figuring out how to make it work with real guys, and that would not be a good thing.

Someone said above that romance novels taught her communication is essential in a relationship - amen, too true, halleluja. Most romance novel conflicts are caused by a lack of communication. So yes, lesson learned, reinforced, go go go.

And now, the inevitable… teh sex.

Reading these books before I had any personal experience was enlightening and titillating, naturally. But I have to say, I was left with lots of unrealistic expectations.
- if you have lots of lust, it’s “meant to be” = NOPE!
- the right man will make timid, inexperienced virgin into wanton, panting uninhibited naked-in-the-light hussy = NOPE!
- men always sweet talk, moan, cry out names, roar, etc, during sex = NOPE!

I am more than 10 years into a wonderful marriage with my soul mate. We were both virgins (although I had messed around a bit before with Mr. Wrong). But we don’t make noise when we’re together (well, he doesn’t anyway), I’d still rather the lights were off and for heaven’s sake, keep your face far away from my nether regions, neither one of us goes unconscious or sees stars when we orgasm, we’re both occasionally not in the mood, for several months after I have a baby I am NOT interested more than once a week or so thank you very much, we don’t burn when we look at each other across the room or touch each other… but we are so incredibly, eternally in love and partnership that, outside of the bedroom, we could put any romance novel heroes to shame.

Thus the model of sexual ‘perfection’ that romance novels showed me caused some serious inferiority complex action for me.

One could posit that that complex should bestir me to enhance our bedroom life, that if my sex life isn’t as good as that in romance novels it SHOULD BE and that’s up to me, etc, etc. But the fact is it isn’t, and it has been challenging for me accepting that, because going into marriage I thought teh sex would become the end all, be all of pleasure.

(Howsomever, the books sure do help me get in the mood sometimes.)

All the novels I’ve read, but especially Romance and YA have pointed out how important communication is in relationships. The contrived conflicts that would have been solved by simply saying “Wait a second… who’s sebatian?” or “You’re not a whore?”  It’s like how in a kids sitcom if they just told their mom they broke a lamp they’d save 27 minutes of angst. I know that as i navigate my first relationship (at 24 lol) I keep remembering to tell him things because assuming things may save face temporarily but never actually solves anything, just complicates things.

I think the line about Romance novels setting girls/women up for too high an expectation of relationships is bull shit. I’ll give you that fairy tales condition society to think a certain way but I think we can navigate the wilds of romancelandia pretty clearheadedly.

mary frances

Heh…at the time where i was reading romance novels, the heroine was always a virgin and the guy taking her virginity was always her one, true and forever love.

So when my first BF started pressuring me for sex, I said “No” because I wasn’t sure if he was “Mr. Right” (he wasn’t). He lost interest, dumped me, and I ended up keeping my virginity, up and until I met someone to whom it really was worth loosing to. So yes, I did learn from romance novels to wait and hold out until I was with someone I was really sure was one of the good guys.

I didn’t start reading romance novels until after I broke up with my first boyfriend.  That relationship was a bit of a disaster: he was kind of—no, he was emotionally abusive.  He spent most of the time together trying to make me into someone I wasn’t, and I spent most of it feeling like I should acquiesce but inside resisting as hard as I could.  By the time I got out of it, I felt broken.  I didn’t understand why anybody would be in a relationship, or what you could get out of it that would be worth it.  I didn’t understand how you could just be with someone.  I didn’t really believe in love any more, period.

I think I started reading romance novels because part of me wanted to hold on to the belief that things could be different.  It was comforting to read about couples where the man was actually interested in and appreciated the woman.  It was reassuring to read about sex as something that could be mutual and enjoyable, not boundary-pushing and innovative.  I know perfectly well that they’re fictional and that if I have another relationship, it won’t be storybook, but I think romance novels have helped me rebuild a healthier ideal of what a relationship should be.

You may quote me pseudonymously.

BigBonnie, I hear you. Romance novels sometimes make me feel sexually inadequate, especially the ones where the heroine wants sex every single day (or more!) and can climax, often multiple times, from intercourse alone.

A majority of women (I think it’s roughly 70%?) cannot climax without some form of clitoral stimulation, and I’m in that majority. So I prefer sex scenes where there’s some manual or oral stimulation involved; they feel more realistic (closer to my own experience, at least) and they’re less likely to make me feel like a sexual loser.

I started to read romance when I was around 11 or 12, my mom gave me a couple of her books and said I might find them interesting.  Boy did I ever!  When I was done she asked if I had any questions, which I of course did, she answered every one of them.  Reading romance books made it easy to talk about sex with her,what could actually happen, how a man really should treat me and gave us something to actually TALK about in my teen years instead of fighting.
Through the years they have kept me company and gave me a place to hide in some very dark and lonely times in my life.  After I married they also made the nights during the many months and times that my husband had been deployed shorter, less scary and helped me relax and not worry.
Even though they are not real people and the stories are fantasy, romance novels have been great companions through the years and something I am hopeing to share with my daughters.

I started reading romance at 13 and as others have mentioned while I knew the mechanics of sex, reading romance really taught me all the nuances of what sex can be. 
Romance novels also led to the one and only sex talk my mother ever had with me.  When I was around 16 and reading at home, my mother, out of the blue looked at me and said “you know sex isn’t like that in real life”.  I agreed and that is the only discussion of sex we have ever had.

I’d have to say both a yes and no to the question of whether romances have helped me with real life relationships:

On one hand, as many others have mentioned, romance novels have shown me what I do and don’t want in a man and in a relationship. And I might even say that romance novels also played a role in the development of my feminist beliefs:  Some of my first romance reads at the age of 11 were those old love=rape novels of the late 70s and ‘80s, and from the start, I knew those “romances” were just wrong—I instinctively sensed that A) no man has the right to dominate a woman like that and pass it off as affection and B) women should stand up for themselves and demand that they be treated as full human beings.

BUT . . . I will admit that reading romance novels has likely stunted my real love life.  Sixteen years after I started reading romances, I still have never been in a real relationship. I’ve been highly successful in my academic achievements and professional careers, and have plenty of friends.  But I more or less have lived vicariously through romance novels for those kind of emotional experiences.  I’m a relatively introverted person, and it’s hard for me to open up in the ways necessary to be in a relationship with a guy.  So all these years, I’ve taken the easy way out and just relished in the ecstatic highs and anguished lows of the heroes and heroines. 

I’m working on finally breaking down my walls and putting myself out there on the market, and part of that process has been to severely cut back on my romance novel reading, so that I don’t continue to hide behind the fantasy. 

But I can’t blame romances for all of my problems and hopefully someday I can have a healthier reading experience with them. And ultimately, romance novels tell us that pain is a necessary part of gaining this new emotional depth to life, and the results are more than worth all of the heartache. 

(And you can quote me.)