I’ve always been a sucker for a guy with muscles and a handsome face. If that makes me sound shallow, maybe I am. I’ve never had a real relationship, unless you consider the guys in my Marine Corps Recon unit. I had a great relationship with those guys. Yeah, yeah, I know we’re splitting hairs. These days, long after my retirement from active duty, the only kind of relationships I really do now are with fictional characters.
I love to read, and lately, I’ve been frequenting the pages of my favorite blog, Bestreads, to escape my real-life job, one I’m not...
I’ve always been a sucker for a guy with muscles and a handsome face. If that makes me sound shallow, maybe I am. I’ve never had a real relationship, unless you consider the guys in my Marine Corps Recon unit. I had a great relationship with those guys. Yeah, yeah, I know we’re splitting hairs. These days, long after my retirement from active duty, the only kind of relationships I really do now are with fictional characters.
I love to read, and lately, I’ve been frequenting the pages of my favorite blog, Bestreads, to escape my real-life job, one I’m not very well suited for. One reviewer on there—Nightcrawler—absolutely slays me. He always makes me laugh, steering me clear of some of the worst trash out there when I’m not trying to earn money as a bounty hunter. Maybe someday the right man will come along, and he won’t simply be a book boyfriend.
Someday.
Lately, I can’t get intrigued by any of the guys I’ve met in bars. Hookups are becoming less and less interesting for me. I’m a reader and of late, I’m also a half decent reviewer. I write exclusively for a blog called Bestreads, working under the name of Nightcrawler and I’m not ashamed to admit, I try to make them funny. In my line of work as a recovery agent for a big insurance company, I’m finding my off hours much more pleasurable.
I think about my next review and my next blog post all the time. Whenever I put up a funny two-star review, I dream of the guy who might be at home reading it, but pretty sure the kind of man who reads me, is probably living in his mother’s basement. Still, I’m a romantic at heart. Someday I might just run into him in one of my stories.
