In Which I Become Seven Different Kinds of Pissed
So, it’s not often that I’m irked to the point that I want to call someone out. But this article has the hairs standing on the back of my neck. Apparently, according to a psychologist out peddling her new book, romance novels are as addictive in women as pornography is in men.
She goes on about brain chemestry and whatnot, drawing parallels between a man’s brain activity while viewing porn to a woman’s emotional gauge while reading romance. Now, I might be naive, but, hasn’t it been established a long time ago that men are sexually stimulated by visuals, while women are stimulated mentally and emotionally? And since when did being sexually aroused lead to addiction?
Reading is an escape. It’s fantasy brought to life in your mind. And I’ve blogged here before about the draw of that fantasy and the need for it in mundane, everyday life. I whole-heartedly disagree with this psychologist’s assertions. I’m a ravenous reader of paranormal and urban fantasy romance. I read a book a week, sometimes more. And I can safely say that I don’t foam at the mouth or experience the DT’s when I’m not reading a steamy sex scene. I don’t get the shakes and rock back and forth on the floor when my mind isn’t filled with visions of the quintessential Alpha-male seducing me against my better judgement.
How do you guys feel about this load of crap? Does it have any merit at all? Talk amongst yourselves…I’ll give you a topic… Oh, wait! I already did!