I’m still at work on the in-progress “Everything I Know About Love, I Learned from Romance Novels,” and I wanted to again humbly ask for your help and your perspective. You are among the smartest folks I know, anyway, so how can I not come begging? (I am almost done and promise not to do this in neverending annoyingpants fashion).
I’m currently working on how romances influence readers, and want to ask you:
Have romance novels helped you with real life relationships? How? Or, in the words of my least favorite essay questions, “Why or why not?” Which books left an impression on you for that reason?
From the book title, you can pretty much surmise my thesis. If I hadn’t learned anything, it’d be a really short (and very easy to write!) book indeed. But you are always welcome to disagree with me.
I’d love to hear what you think, about whether reading about courtships has perhaps changed the way you think of your own relationships, and whether romance has given you tools to improve yours.
Note: I absolutely mean to include sex in that question, so whether you want to discuss romance, sexual agency, sexual satisfaction, and your newfound love of wearing a beaver suit while hitchhiking to meet hot guys, please bring it on. I know that it’s very easy to skirt (ha) too close to the “romance is just porn” accusation because of the sexual explicitness of some romance, and discussing reader response to erotic content can get … oh, pick your favorite: hairy. sticky. tricky. concupiscent. turgid. banana hammocky.
Seriously, I absolutely think that reading about women and men experiencing sexual honesty along with their sexual agency is a very powerful (and subversive) thing. But if you disagree with me on that, I’d love to hear why.
As with my prior entry about the book in progress, please let me know if I can quote you, and under what name you’d like to be quoted. As of right now, I’m using the handles and usernames and not real names unless they were provided, but if the editor gives me a big ol’ WTF? on that, I’ll come back to you about it.
And as with my prior request for your opinions as I work on this book, thank you, thank you, thank you. You rock my world, my casbah, and the entire tri-state area.
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.)