I read plenty about love. About lonely men finding love, men having their pick of lovers, and men in rocky relationships. Know what I love about romance novels? They almost always have a happy ending. Life sucks enough, I don't need my novels to tear me up without slapping on a band-aid (with possibly a shot of morphine).
Know what I hate about romance novels? They almost always have a happy ending. The loser, the loner, the outcast, the misanthrope, and the jerk (if they are the lead character) will find love, whether it's for now or forever. The other lead character is willing to push boundaries, figure out what's going on inside the main character's head and do whatever it takes to get that person to open up and flourish, and in the end love.
I'm pretty sure real life doesn't go that way.
Most people, myself included, tend to be selfish. Not in a greedy way, but nature makes us tend to worry about ourselves and how A, B, Y, and Z relate to us. Self preservation. I'm honestly amazed people get together at all. I'm single, so I obviously haven't figured it out yet, but lots of people do get together, fall in love, and have lots of sex (and sometimes babies).
So people, these selfish little beings that are worried about Me, somehow step outside of themselves to see another person. And while doing so, they fall in love, potentially creating more outside creatures that they will love, potentially more than themselves. True, they reap all sorts of benefits like being loved in return, sex, dual incomes, someone else to wash the dishes, and companionship.
Still, it's pretty amazing. And I hope everyone who is in love treasures how great it is. And I'd love to hear how you fell in love with your significant other (or you can complain about being single, like me).
*I realize the beginning of this post doesn't completely correlate to the end of this post, but I hope you'll follow where my cold-infested brain was going.