When,God, when will we stop going on and on about love? And not just Love, love in this oh-my-god-poke-my-eyes-out-before-I-read-any-more-of-this-tripe kind of love.
The different kinds of romantic love portrayed in Fiction:
1. Man-Woman Rock Solid love - Two-sided, mono-amorous love. Love of the running around the trees fame, of the we-will-part-not fame, of the we-will swim-across-flooded-rivers-and-die-of-heartache-and-not-pneumonia fame. Romeo-Juliet, Heer-Ranjha and countless others. Shit boring.
2.Want what I can't have - The tales of forbidden love. Adultery, most often. The good old love triangle spiced up by marriage and societal rules and all that. Unfaithful, Murder yada yada. Sometimes, just to be different, it is the case of the hitherto straight man suddenly falling for another man. Or a married woman falling for another.
3. Polyamory in its various forms - Debauched people who paint the most heavenly decadent scenes and then all die of mysterious diseases or of broken hearts and realization of a life wasted away or pure pecuniary scarcity. There has never been a work of fiction where Polyamory has been suggested as a working possibility.
Why don't these ugly books by Truman Capote, Jane Austen and Edith Wharton burn down? Shouldn't these books just auto-combust out of shame and boredom? Ugh!
Love,scandal,love,scandal,love,love,scandal. And some more. Fuck y'all! The Harlequin romances are a better read than this tripe. At least,they don't pretend to be something else.
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