My Opium

I don't know how most people handle stress in their lives, I resort to my opium - ahem romance books or romantic movies. It could be anything from Jane Austen, Barbara Cartland to Mills & Boons. I used to read romance novels as a teenager. I think they were a good outlet to my romantic fantasies (the Hindi movies I must say fell quite short). And then I outgrew them till I reached the US.

My first room-mate at school was into regency romances, and once when I was quite stressed after a phone call with R, she gave one of her books to me. I loved reading the book. A make-believe world where there is this great sexual chemistry and where the guy just loves everything about the girl, every single idiosyncracy of hers, and sometimes her feminist leanings as well ! Oh well, there is no harm in dreaming, is there ? And ofcourse I always conveniently ignore the part where the girl loves everything about the guy, every jealous tantrum, every possesive streak, every over-bearing male characteristic !

I still feel guilty when I dig into a romance book. R makes sure that he teases me a lot, but he is totally fine with it. I guess he realises that after my whiff - err read, I am much more malleable and sweet. He thinks romantic novels are emotional porn, but I think it's my opium.