We call them romance novels.
Bodice-rippers. Theyre the books with women pictured on the covers, with their triple-D cup breasts nearly popping out of their A-cup corsets while they languish in the arms of devastatingly handsome, muscle-bound men.
You wonder, out of all the books written, printed, and sold every day, millions of seemingly self-sufficient women choose to waste P356.29 on novels with titles ranging from Golden Barbarian to Captive Bride. They read about Ramons "soul-stirring kisses" and Merediths "heaving breasts," Jeffreys "manly stare" and Victorias "fearless allure."
Its a clichéd formula, a tired old recipe designed to take women in. Gorgeous Heroine + Stunning Hero = Happily Ever After.
First theres the "silver-haired heiress with eyes like amethysts." Enter Lancelot, with his "piercing emerald eyes" and "ruthless stare." Her "golden loveliness drives him mad with desire," drowns him in "the fierce, hot hunger of insatiable yearning," while his "scorching kisses ignite her very soul." Oh yeah burn baby burn.
In three-fourths of the book they yearn and long and crave and lust and thirst and ache for each other. Somehow God knows how in the middle of all this lusting and yearning and thirsting and craving, he becomes conscious that theres more to her than her "lush breasts and silky curves." She, on the other hand, realizes that "she has lost her heart to the man she never thought shed love."
The conclusion: "In wordless surrender, they cast aside the shackles of doubt and distrust to unite forever in the searing promise of all-consuming love."
In simpler terms: "I love you,
Eve/Elizabeth/Roseleen/Cassandra/Juliette," Lance/Jared/Travis/Blade/Jonathan say, "with all my heart and soul. I love you more than gold/family/life itself."
It doesnt matter how much women deny it. They can hide them under pillows or behind brown wrappers; they can scan them in secret or call them modern literature. Women will always read romance novels, men will always wonder why. They laugh and call the habit sappy and ridiculously sentimental.
Well boys, listen up.
In a world where most guys are gay, taken, or deluded dreamers who believe they should be taken, theres little left for a girl to do but dream.