Myth #6: Women above a certain intellectual threshold do not read – or, God forbid, write – romance novels.
Not to toot my own horn, but I’m no dummy, at least in the absence of good Weiβbier, antagonistic people, or a stage. And neither was my college roommate. Or a horde of my friends who can legitimately put a “Dr.” in front of their names. Or, it should be noted, many of the best romance writers, many of whom have some frighteningly impressive credentials. (No, really, check it out.)
Some of the most awesome and brilliant people I know love zombie movies or even – gasp - the horrific Star Wars Holiday Special (though I admit that the friend who owns that abomination only allows it to be watched under the influence of copious alcohol and has written “DO NOT LICK” on the box to ensure innocents are not harmed).
But, uh, so what? That’s not Plato either. Who cares?
Look, I am not going to talk about romance novels at work – at least, not until a colleague stumbles on this post and knocks me for it, at which point I will mention the zombie apocalypse and run the other way – but romance novels are equal opportunity escapes.
Smart people like to fall in love too. Even if it’s just for an afternoon with a cup of coffee before returning home to our real abiding loves.
So anyway…
I read romance novels. So what.
And to those of you who read them too, stop being embarrassed about it, for God’s sake. I mean, grownups are allowed to read Harry Potter in public these days, so what’s the big deal?
Thus Endeth the Sermon.
Amen.
Professional computer geek and linguist living in Germany, doing infosec stuff and being the freakiest mother ever.
