Love Don’t Love Me

That blog title is actually an old Eric Benet song, pre-Halle, and a favorite. It came to mind as I was reading the new Vogue this morning. The unofficial theme of the issue seemed to be single-ness. I’ve only gotten through the up front columns, but there is a distinct air of the melancholy about the whole thing. Men behaving badly – we’re talking elaborate almost pathological lying and misleading – and the aftermath of forlorn love affairs ending in once nattily turned out muses eroding into bag ladies.

It’s a bit disheartening not to mention disconcerting. Of course because it’s Vogue, as tragic as some of those tales were, they all looked absurdly good. But it got me thinking, there’s way too much love gone wrong floating around lately.

It’s like love, along with the economy and manners and so many other things in society is dragging on the ground like a dirty white hem. That’s a shame. I hearby proclaim that my love stories – for I will always write love stories – will almost always a have a happy ending – I never say never – ‘cuz that’s what I like to read. Further, I think that’s what romance fans like.

If my characters have drama – and they will ‘cuz drama is what makes pages turn, and that’s the whole point of this thing, to read ’til the end and then feel something – it won’t be because somebody is hiding a wife they were supposed to be divorced from somewhere, or because a girl with a good man is tipping out because he doesn’t make enough money, or any other simplistic nonsense.

A warlock bent on annihilation, or a centuries old vampire with an unquenchable thirst for power, these may be fantastic trials, but I think I prefer them to the horror of real life cruelty.

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