I read the first Diana Gabaldon Outlander series book long before I knew the series was popular. In fact it was so long ago it might even have been before they were popular. I don’t know. I didn’t care. All that I cared about was that I had found the perfect man.
He was tough and tender. He was buff and good looking. He was smart and literate, but spoke with a sexy accent. He was exactly the kind of guy I dreamed would swoop in and take me away, making me feel petite and safe all at the same time.
That he was nothing more than a character in a book was completely and utterly besides the point.
A million years or so later I have just started reading the 7th volume in the series, An Echo in the Bone. I was so excited to get this book. Not just because I was going to finally find out the continuation of the story, but because I was going to get to be reunited with my beloved Jamie again.
But 100 or so pages in I realized that he just wasn’t making my heart throb quite as much any more. Was it that he had aged? Was it that I had aged? I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
A gentle snore pulled me out of my contemplation and back into my bedroom. I glanced down at M sleeping soundly besides me and I smiled.
Jamie doesn’t make my heart race any more because someone else does. I don’t need to fantasize over the perfect man, I’ve found him.
He may not be Scottish and covered in scars. He might never have fought wars in the Highlands or been a pioneer in 18th Century America. But he’s tough and tender, he’s definitely buff and good looking, and even though he doesn’t speak in a sexy Scottish accent, he’s unquestioningly smart and literate. And he’s so much more than that in every way possible.
Who needs a two dimensional dream man when a flesh and blood three dimensional one shares your bed and your life?
Happy Love Thursday everyone.