Caveat: This post is not a meant to be a pity post. Nor a whiny one. So if I gave that impression I apologise, as it was not my intent. It's just a ramble through the inner workings of my very warped thought processes.
Last weekend I read Amy Lane's Clear Water. And it was lovely. But...it did have one trope that I'm not so fond of...insta love. Now, to be fair, the love between Patrick & Whiskey wasn't instant per say, but...it was fast. About six weeks fast. And it got me to thinking...and that thinking led to a feeling: I'm not sure if I believe in love any more. I mean, I believe in it for other people. But...I'm not sure if I believe in it for me. I don't even know if it is something I'm capable of...will ever be capable of. I did, once. I even believed in soul mates *ducks* But...somewhere along the way I stopped believing. I don't know when.
And all of this got me to wondering - if I don't believe in love, why do I read romance novels? Why read about the HEA of various characters if I don't believe it exists? (Now, don't get me wrong, I don't believe in perfect love. That's only ever in fairy tales. Love is...a journey. And just like any journey it will have its rocky patches and steep climbs...and it's falls. But the views? I've heard [I've never been in love so it's all hearsay, although IMHO Your Honour the witnesses are reliable :)] they are...breathtaking! Am I a masochist? Am I hoping to be persuaded otherwise?
So, I'm hoping you can help me out. Why do you read romance novels?