My mother once told me that I
should write romance novels. She said they sell really well and if I want to
become rich and famous, that would be the way to do it. I informed her that I
tend to kill my characters off which would make for a very short love story.
While I don't write love stories I
do truly believe in the fairy tale. I love every ounce of cheesy goodness to
the point where if it was a literal thing I have orange residue on my
fingertips. The flowers, the poems, the goofy texts...all of it...sign me up.
Tonight while making dinner I had the sad cause to wonder if Mr. Gray may
have killed Mr. Darcy. One of my daughters was sitting at the table with her
girlfriends talking. I was only halfway listening when the friend began to
describe a movie. Words like submissive and dom caught my attention. These
girls are 13 & 14. When I was that age the only dom I had knowledge of was
Dom...inos Pizza.
I stopped what I was doing and had
a conversation about what is appropriate for their age group. There was a lot
of crying and gnashing of teeth....from me. But I
hope I managed to convey that this was not a normal example of a relationship. Christian is a handsome billionaire. However, I am convinced that if this was George Constanza in his mother's basement or
Bubba down in the hollars in his mobile home with banjos playing in the
background that there would have been an entirely different conversation.
I believe that a story is supposed
to evoke emotion in its reader. Which this book clearly has. For that reason
alone I refused to jump on the bandwagon of bashing the book. Nor am I bashing
it now. But what I haven't thought of until just now, after hearing my
daughter's friend gush over how romantic it was, is this the new standard of
romance?
Where is Mr. Darcy declaring his
most ardent love in the middle of a rain storm? Or Jack Nicholson saying to
Helen Hunt “…I might be the only one who
appreciates how amazing you are in every single thing that you do, and … I
watch them, wondering how they can watch you bring their food, and clear their
tables and never get that they just met the greatest woman alive. And the fact
that I get it makes me feel good, about me.”
Or Julia Roberts saying to Hugh
Grant “Don’t forget I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him
to love her.”
“…If, however, your feelings have changed, I
will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love … I
love … I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”
Long live Mr.
Darcy.
