You know, I was raised by a particularly intelligent woman.  And I’m not just saying that because she sometimes reads this blog either.  She already knows it, and false modesty isn’t a sin in which she partakes.  This, by the way, is the disclaimer part of the post.  I do it often.  You’d think that being bitter for so long I’d have ceased to care who I offend, but it just hasnt’ worked out that way.  So, Mom, this one isn’t your fault.  Or, well, really it is, but let’s both blame someone else and then talk about them behind their back.

I grew up believing that romance novels are trashy.  Yes, I can hear you all saying, “But they ARE” all the way over here, but think about it.  Really?  What’s trashy about them?  Are they badly written?  Some, yes, but not all by any stretch.  Jane Eyre isn’t anything but a very old romance novel, and no one calls it trashy.  Well, you say, but it’s a classic!  A classic is just something that’s survived.  Like me.  Not all classics (unlike me) are really any good.  Try reading Moby Dick and then tell me with a straight face that you enjoyed it. 

So if it isn’t the quality of writing that makes it trashy, what is it?  The cover art?  Yes, some is laughably bad.  I love the spoofs on the Longmire website, one of which I’ve shamelessly stolen here.  So we do often judge books by their covers, which is another reason I’m pretty happy that I now own a Sony Book Reader, because I can read whatever the france I want and nobody gets to judge me for it. 

But sci-fi and fantasy are also riddled with bad cover art, but no one says “Trashy” before the phrase “Sci Fi” or rolls their eyes they way you’ll get if you tell someone you have just finished a good romance novel.

So, I decided to test my prejudices and I’ve started downloading romance books.  I blame Charlaine Harris, actually.  I fell in love with the TV series True Blood on HBO (watched on the web because it hasn’t come out in the UK yet, dammit), and have since read all her Sookie Stackhouse novels.  Actually… I read all 8 of them in about 2 weeks.  Seriously.  And I don’t even LIKE vampire stories.  Talk about trashy.  I get images of Béla Lugosi and get the giggles.  Sorry, Anne Rice, but even if you take the comical aspect away, how on earth is cannibalism sexy?  Tell me that?  Anyway, that’s another rant altogether.

Anyway, I could go on and on about what makes romance trashy, and by now you’re probably worried that I will.  Either that or you’re shouting “Too Late!” at your monitor.  I’ll skip it all and get to the point. 

Write this one down, Ethel.  It’s the s-e-x.  If men talk about sex it’s bawdy and perhaps coarse, but boys will be boys.  If women talk about sex… and I’m talking about grown women here… it’s trashy?  It’s trashy to write about it, read about it, and for gods sake, don’t think about it either!  That leads down a path of decay!  Or maybe it’s just that most romance books deal with love and relationships.  By god that IS trashy!

Because I’ve been reading a few romance books lately…. probably… 40 books in the last 4 months. (I’ve got a lot of catching up to do… Jane Eyre was the last one I’d read!)  Some historical, some modern, some futuristic and a couple paranormal (that’s what they call vampires and ghosts these days.)  And I will tell you… some were really crap.  No doubt about that.  But there were a few that made me laugh out loud, got me misty eyed, and even made my pulse go a wee bit faster.  But guess what…. none of them were trashy.  Imagine that.

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Remember how when you were 19 you could hop in a car and drive for 16 hours and arrive at your desination feeling maybe slightly tired and jazzed from too many soft drinks and fast food, but generally okay?

20 years later and hopping on a plane for a quick visit to ailing parents (it used to be a desperate need to be on a beach, or shopping that would make me drop everything and go, but no more) turned into a month long ordeal involving swollen ankles, thrombophlebitis (which includes steroids, pain killers and a heating pad), an aching back, and really most of the time wanting to be back home, not that said parents aren’t good company, but more that I’ve become a creature of habit and I like my habits.  In other words, I’m getting old.

Not that I’m complaining about getting old.

Okay wait yes I’m complaining about getting old.

I was prepared for the wrinkles and the grey hair, but I suppose I always thought that life would be fabulous.  Or if life wasn’t fabulous, I certainly thought I would be.  Maybe once the cloud of jetlag lifts, I’ll be able to figure out what the hell happened.

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First, I want you to know that I’m as romantic as the next girl while bearing in mind I also have a practical streak; I can appreciate doing the right thing for the wrong reason. When a couple-dozen of America’s young women are willing to compete ON TV for cash prizes, 15-minutes-of-Fame, and a marriage proposal from a total stranger, well, I get choked up. It’s the American Way! 

[Note: having burned my bra in the day and learned to be proud of who I AM, such as it is, as opposed to piggy-backing my worth based on my hubby's accomplishments, I've long since developed a sour taste for those whose human development isn't as it might be with a little effort.]

What I’m saying is, does it surprise you that a beauty queen wannabe, a Cheerleader–ferchristsake–for a pro-football team, would join the ranks of those competing for the glass slipper….er….ring and proposal from The Bachelor.

The Bachelor is an original one hour prime-time reality television series that gives one man and 25 women the unique opportunity to find true love in a most exciting and adventurous way. The Bachelor will get to know the 25 women in a series of fun, exciting and exotic dates that will elicit real and raw emotions. Along the way he must follow a gradual process of elimination, as his…

Now, for the happily ever after part.  You’re gonna love this.  Mary Delgado, winner of The Bachelor proposal in 2004, was arrested two days after Thanksgiving for punching out the man she lives with, whom she describes as her fiance (after living with him for three years.)  The reason for the assault wasn’t given, nor her fiance’s name–however, it WAS NOT The Bachelor who proposed to her in ‘04.  She was released from the pokey a short while later.  Ah, romance.

I don’t know about you, but I like my fairy tales with happier endings–after all, the original Cinderella was a mistreated, hard-working stepchild for whom all ended well. Even if you prefer Liberation Literature, it’s plainly not nice to punch a guy’s lights out, spend time in the slammer for it, then expect to ride away in a mouse-drawn pumpkin.  But that’s just me; I could be wrong.

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Although we’re technically Blogging for Bitter Women, this one is for the guys.

Quick Tip #3: There is NO Bank

Women might indicate otherwise, for motives I wouldn’t care to speculate on, but when it comes to earning “points” with the woman in your life, there is no bank.  The credit you earn now is the credit you have.   You can’t point back to a good thing you did a week ago and say “But hey I did the dishes without being asked last week.”  It don’t work that way.

Now some might consider this cruel, but it’s not… it’s just simply the way it is, and the sooner you understand the truth of the Chick Point System, the sooner you will be able to achieve the happy status of understanding you so desire.

Let me give you an example:

1. Monday:  Buy flowers for her.  + 10 points
2. Tuesday: Do dishes without being asked +5 points (Assuming this is a point of contention or something you don’t normally do.) Note: This gets fewer points than flowers because you dont’ have to leave the house or spend money to do it.
3. Wednesday: Give her fantastic, thoughful, multi-orgasmic sex. +10 points. (Although you don’t have to leave the house or spend money for this one… hey.. it’s good orgasms.  Shut up.)
4. Thursday: Remember to put gas/diesel in the car on the way home, knowing that she’s going to be using the car first thing in the morning and won’t want to have to stop.  +15 points.

Now.. the quiz… On Friday morning, how many points does he have?

The novice would look at that and say, “Easy… 40 points!”  Oh, you poor, dear soul.  ;))

The correct answer: 0 points.

Don’t cry to me about it.  You should thank me for explaining this.  You got credits for what you did on Monday-Thursday, no doubt, but just remember.. there is no bank.

Remember this, and your life will get easier.  Promise.

(My apologies, by the way, for all the contextual Google  “Get Cheap Credit” ads that are undoubtedly going to be appearing for this one!)

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Continuing my tradition of giving little tidbits of advice that might help our Dear Bitter Readers….

Quick Tip #2: Cat Fights

If, at 4 in the morning, you hear the ungodly noises of cats fighting outside your window, do NOT under any circumstances climb out the window to run them off, even if your bedroom windows, like mine, appear easy to climb out of being reasonably large and low to the ground.

1. It’s likely that in the dark and your sleep-hazed frame of mind, you could step on dog shit and/or the dead bird left for you by the member of your household involved in said cat fight.
2. Said cat, being in a hissy state, might not feel endebted or even slightly grateful to be picked up and hauled toward the window.
3. Finding oneself outside a locked house, in one’s jammies, at 4 in the morning, holding a hissy cat, one might find it much harder to climb INTO the window than it was to climb OUT.

Nobody said gaining life experience was always what we expected it would be. It was a very very very long night last night.

The Culprit

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