Wolf told me so, but I didn’t understand what he meant, even enough to believe him.

You wouldn’t know what love is if it were painted red in front of you!

That’s the way it was put in The Trading Post Girl, a story I loved. I’m the same little girl delighted by this story, while the whole time I’m saying to myself, unlike her, I do know what love is…

But it’s not working,-love isn’t.

Wolf explained to me, You show someone you love them.

Tried that, it just felt like trying.  My inner Yoda had allot to say about that, whole trying thing, too. He just repeated the same thing allot of times.

How the hell do you show a man you love him?

Guys don’t like flowers. I’m going down the list. Ways to show, Ways to be, ways to behave, ways to look. It feels hollow. My heart is getting hollow. So is his.

I guess it’s all the romance novels, not including The Trading Post Girl, of course, narratives of a woman being loved, adored and, well, romanced that had me imagining happily ever after was a state of being. It’s not.

To a man a romance novel must read like a honey-do list. Impossible, therefore uninteresting.

The guy, in one of these novels, he just does things just right, every time, for his beloved heroine. When he makes a mistake, he realizes he is wrong, and rectifies. Then, he does everything right all the time after that. Then, once she is convinced by his unimaginable feats, and risks that she is really loved, they live happily ever after.

Happily ever after?

What the hell is that?

Wolf said the same thing, about that, just in different words; “I don’t think you are ready for an every day man.”

That is what happily ever after is- Every Day.

Every Day does not read like a romance novel. So, pretty much, I’m not ready for Happily Ever After.

Which sucks, because I like the romance in the novels and happily ever after is where I wanted to go.  But, I’m doomed.

Then, after overcoming shock and horror, and with humble acceptance of my loosership, I got to figureing; relationship, it’s like writing.

So, I love to write. Actually, I need to write. So, I start a journal.  Then, blogging sometimes works good. I’m enjoying just writing whenever I feel like it. I love to write!

I’m liking it so much I get serious. I think I’ll make a career of this. That is when the romance novel ended.

Boy was that a marriage!

Then, there it comes, right were the happily ever after is supposed to be, heartache, and heard work.

It’s a beast, writers block, making a living, the horror, and tedious headache of editing, that and a million loose ends. Then there are the times something needs to be written, but refuses. When inspiration does not knock. Sleepless nights of doubt, fear of rejection, then actual rejection…

Where is the happily ever after?

When is the happily ever after?