In my last blog post, I discussed how certain cold hard facts of biology shouldn’t be brought up in a romantic novel. Things like morning breath, lavatory habits, what happens after you eat a whole lot of soy products – these things are better left unsaid. The world of romance should be an ideal one, with only enough realism to, well, to make it real. As a reader, I want to be transported into a world where an attractive heroine finds love with a near flawless hero. Because it’s my fantasy, and I want to leave my everyday life just for a bit and lose myself in it all.
And that’s when I realized what a hypocrite I was.
Last winter I was chatting with neighborhood moms at a holiday party and the inevitable mention of ‘gentleman’s magazines’ came up. Some women made the usual arguments that the pictures objectified women, reinforcing stereotypes that females are only to look attractive and satisfy sexual needs. Several stated they refused to have them in the house. I announced that I liked these magazines. A few women looked relieved. Others looked at me as if I’d grown three heads.
“I don’t see anything wrong with people of either gender using visual representations, whether they’re pictures or words, to stir their libido,