Had an interesting conversation with a recent romance convert. She favors good old fashioned Harlequins, which I started reading at like, age 13 (shhh!!) and still love dearly (Robyn Donald emailed me not too long ago!), but she recently discovered erotica: the Jaid Blacks, Lori Fosters and Susan Johnsons of the genre. She likes the freedom and enjoys the sex, but finds the alpha male protagonists irritating.
I gotta tell you, I devoted a good few minutes to an indepth defense of my beloved alpha male heros. Where would romance be without alpha males, anyway? Not only are they fine, self-sustaining – and capable of toting the heroine’s load too since she has a tendency to fall on hard times and/or need help in the midst of unreasonably unfair circumstances – able to fix things (or hire someone to do it instantly), they can make your panties drop around your ankles at 20 paces and/or make the top of your head blow off, metaphorically speaking, of course.
Sure they can be annoying, bossy, know-it-alls, but I for one find that comforting between the pages of a book, especially one with a happy ending, which usually consists of the female protagonist uncovering her inner alpha female and taming the sexually charged, secretly-tip-over-tail-in-love male of previous description.
Who knows how that would play out in the real world? Unfortunately, I have not had many opportunities, yet, to get to know any alpha males in a biblical sense. But I’m open. If he’s got the swag to back up his swag, I’d be more than happy to be the little woman/damsel in distress/female in need of help and love and care and everything else under the sun not omitting flowers, large, conflict free jewels, and exhausting sexual escapades. Aren’t those the best stories anyway? Big, dominant male undone by sweet, feminine lady with a big smile and an even bigger ability to tame the beast?
I love stories like that.