Last night I was reading a chick lit book where the 2 main characters really hate each other at first. The usual sort of thing; a smouldering hero with a hidden soft spot, lots of sparkling dialogue and loads of sexual tension. I don't normally read this sort of thing, and it was an excellent rom-com, so I was really enjoying it.
But every time I tried to get really caught up in it, my real life romantic hero was talking to me about carpets instead of smouldering inscrutably; cooking stinky pork instead of seducing me in a hotel lift; swigging a beer whilst watching "the walking dead"; grunting as he heaved himself around the sofa to get comfortable; and finally belching after the efforts all combined.... sigh.
Totally ruined the moment! WIBU to think he could just have been a dashing swoonsome hero for an hour or two? Or frankly even just quiet would have done 😂
When did reality last intrude on your harmless fun?