A long day...

So tonight I planned on starting a new book and curling up in bed early. I went and visited my old high school and I had forgotten how long the days are. A three hour lecture now seems like a long time to me, but I was at the school for around six hours today. I had some things to pick up, and some people to catch up with. I had a lovely day but it reminded me why I categorically do not want to teach secondary school children. Why I ever thought that I would want to is beyond me, and yet I went through high school with this firm belief. I have the most respect for teachers, and training teachers. I think you are so brave.

Anyway, some of my favourite and most dreaded questions are asked when catching up with people. 'What are you doing now', 'How's life'? My responses are always the same; I am still at university, I am still working the same job, I am still doing the grand total of nothing with my life. I can't help but feel that I am wasting time. But what am I meant to be doing at just shy of twenty? All that ever changes is I've got through some more books, but this time I could say that I had started a blog. Conversations normally include what my friends are up to, and me praying that nobody asks about the appalling state of my love life. But so far so good and I enjoyed the visit.

Instead of going to bed early, I've been pottering around on the internet. I've been looking at hotels for a weekend away in April. I'm hoping to go away for my birthday weekend. Really, what I've been doing is avoiding reading the last few pages of Robinson Crusoe. I have returned to a state of irritation with regard to Defoe. It feels so repetitive and dry. I hear Roxanna is better but good grief. I'm sick of getting fifty thousand details about whatever the hell Crusoe is thinking about or building. I am bored! Perhaps I am missing something.

So I found something more interesting to read. I read this article entitled Donald Trump is Not A Romance Novel Hero: An Argument I Never Thought I’d Have to Make. The title sounded so ridiculous that I had to laugh. But then I realised that there were people who actually thought that Trump resembled a romantic hero! Apparently, romance novel readers voted for Trump hoping for a happily ever after. Naturally, I became curious with regard to the reasons that were being given, despite not engaging with romance novels frequently. But it is safe to say that this article stated the obvious.

First of all, apparently romantic heroes dress well. Even the ones that wear suits wear them better than Donald, the article points out. Well I wouldn't have addressed his lack of fashion sense first, though it is true that the suit fitting is so unattractive and unappealing. But this is closely followed by the fact his racist, xenophobic, sexist, islamophobic ideals are not sexy or cute. This is a much better argument for why the guy does not even come close to being the archetypal romantic hero. I know Heathcliff was a bit of an arsehole, but Trump is worlds away from him.

Thirdly, his misogynistic behaviour. Despite not having read a lot of romance novels, I don't remember the romantic hero ever grabbing a woman by the p***y. I read comments that argue Trump resembled Christian Grey, because apparently Fifty Shades of Grey is full of great examples of romantic heroes. I didn't know whether to laugh, or feel disgusted. But the most hilarious part of this article was the comparison between romance novel covers, and Trump's portrait. It was described as being more 'menacing' rather than 'sweet, sexy or cute'! I'd love to meet a woman, other than his wife, that finds Trump sexy or cute!

After reading this, I realised Robinson Crusoe was probably a lot safer and inspired much less anxiety and confusion. The grass is not always greener, my friends. I will take Defoe boring me to death over this any day.

Good night folks.