5 Reasons Why My Life is Like a Trashy Romance Novel

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I have a confession.  I love reading trashy romance novels.  I managed to contain this love for years – only reading in the privacy of my own home.  I didn’t want to be judged by fellow train riders. But thanks to the Kindle, I can now indulge guilt-free because no one else can see the title of my book!  (athough I do miss the colorful cover pages…)

I think that one reason for this love is because the books often parallel my own life (especially the ones set in Regency England…).  And here is my proof.  The 5 reasons why my like is like a trashy romance novel.

1.  Love at first sight.  I always thought I would meet the man of my dreams by hitting his car in a parking lot or tumbling down the stairs into his arms.  Turns out, I met him at a college date auction.  He got in a bidding war with another guy and I ended up being the most expensive “date” of the night.  (That sounds wrong …)  The rest, they say, is history.

2.  The hero isn’t always the one you expect:  I always thought my “type” was tall, dark, and handsome.  Like normal, I am right 2 out of 3 times.  Apparently I actually prefer ghost white.  Whatever, his allergy to sunlight just gives me a good excuse to not have to be seen in a bathing suit.

3.  I married a hunk who takes care of my every need.  Well, the important ones anyway, like food, shelter, clothing, etc…  Laundry, cleaning out closets, and picking up after the dog just happen in fairy tales.

4.  There is always drama:  Sure I haven’t been married off by an evil uncle or kidnapped by pirates or forced to assume a new identity (or maybe I have, how would anyway know?).  But I do have my own drama.  Like my back-up at work not showing up at the last minute so I had to cancel my day off.  Or fighting with the people who installed my carpets and left bubbles in the middle.  Or watching the two women scream at each other from opposite sides of the street until one woman seized the initiative and sprinted across the street and tackled the other football style.   

5.  I live in a castle:  Well, if you consider a 2-bedroom condo in a high-rise in a big city to be a castle.  I mean, I do.  Think tall, unscaleable walls, the possibility of a siege due to invading tourists, and escape tunnels leading to the surrounding buildings.  

Bonus Reason:  The happily ever after – the part of the story that is always left to your imagination.  I see Keith and I winning the Lottery this weekend and retiring to a beach in Hawaii.  And on the very small chance that this doesn’t happen, then I’m going to retire for a weekend, read a trashy romance novel, and dream of Keith fanning me with palm leaves and singing gentle lullabies until I fall asleep.

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