The Convenience Store
I had good intentions. I had my husband’s laptop. I had the pendrive. Unfortunately, the computer could not read one word of 62,000 of them in Mistress by Midnight. Everything suddenly became coded into little rectangles and doohickeys. After I panicked, thought I might vomit, took my blood pressure medicine, I decided it was a sign from God to just relax and have fun on vacation. So I did.
Since we were in Vegas, I thought it was appropriate to watch What Happens in Vegas on pay-per-view. I don’t get to the movies much, and this looked appropriately silly. A romantic comedy, it had all the trappings: the marriage of two strangers (one of my favorite tropes, even if they were blotto), forced togetherness, man vs woman sabotage, big bucks riding on the line. There were lots of things which were annoying (the interoffice intrigue came off as racist to me), but on the whole I laughed out loud quite a bit.
It made me think of how little romantic love had anything to do with marriage until recently. In some cultures marriages are still arranged, and they often work out as well or better as those founded on severe attraction/lust. Marriages of convenience are fun to read, although they work better in historicals than contemps. It’s difficult for an independent woman to imagine being stuck with some random guy. But with half of all marriages ending in divorce anyway, there’s no guarantee that love will last.
Could you marry a stranger? Could you live with somebody for six months so you could split 3 million dollars? Could you live without a bathroom door? Could you live with a guy who thought of empty beer bottles as decor? Do you wonder why men sit with their hands down their pants? Who would think a fluffy romantic comedy could be so thought-provoking?
Breaking News: Stop by Vauxhall Vixens July 7 to read Eve Silver/Kenin’s excellent guest blog about her tortured heroes. One lucky visitor will win an ARC!