The thing that irritates me is:
I *love* a good love story.
But too many romance publishers (maybe it’s the authors, or the “formula,” I don’t know) have emasculated the male to such a point they’re just woman-meets-eunuch stories, or woman-meets-‘woman-in-disguise-of-a-man’ stories.
(I’m also upset that so many romance books also portray men as merely lust-driven animals, but that’s another rant.)
What happened to guys who are guys? Why can’t a self-reliant, confident, successful woman meet a regular ol’ guy and fall in love (and not want to change him, or make him ‘stronger, faster, better than he was before’)?
I thought love was allowing your mate to be themselves, and loving them anyway.