Alternate Reality

Write me a romance.

On her way to work, a shy girl spills her latte on the guy she secretly admires…

Stop! Write me a lesbian romance. My last boyfriend was, well, a boy, and I’m ready for a change. Wink.

On her way to work, a shy girl spills her latte on the sporty girl she secretly admires. I say sporty because we don’t use that other word in romances. But you know she’s, ahem, sporty, because she has narrow hips and plays rugby. Shy girl is too shy to tell her best friend about sporty girl. She drinks a bottle of wine alone every night. She is silent in situations where Mr. Bean could give a TED Talk. The most incorrigible introvert you’ve ever met is Anne of Green Gables by comparison. She reaches her lowest point and learns an important lesson about taking risks. Sporty girl engulfs her in a hug, and they live happily ever after.

Write me a romance where the protagonist’s shyness is plausible.

On the first day of grade 10, a shy girl spills her root beer all over the sporty girl she secretly admires…

Write me a romance where the protagonist isn’t shy!

What?

You heard me!

Um… okay… On her way to work, a Type A girl gets Gatorade spilled on her by an annoyingly cute girl in a rugby uniform. She says “whom” because she’s Type A. She drinks a bottle of wine alone every night.  She gets angry in situations where Bruce Banner would just sip his tea. The crankiest person you’ve ever met is Yoda by comparison. She reaches her lowest point and learns an important lesson about letting go. Rugby girl ruffles her hair, and they live happily ever after.

Write me a romance where the protagonist is butch.

Sorry, I’m not familiar with that term.

Bitch please.

Oh, you mean sporty!

I’m waiting.

On her way to rugby practice, a girl with narrow hips spills her Gatorade on an impeccably coiffed brunette. The brunette says “whom,” so we know she’s annoyed. She drinks a bottle of wine alone every night.  

Wait, which one drinks?  

Sporty girl.  

Are you sure?  

Yes. The coiffed brunette also drinks, but the narrative focalization doesn’t permit me to depict it.  

Wouldn’t sporty girl prefer beer?  

Fine! … she goes to a sports bar alone and drinks six beers every night. She avoids her emotions in situations where Han Solo would be crying in his therapist’s office. The most repressed person you’ve ever met is Carrie Bradshaw by comparison. She reaches her lowest point and learns an important lesson about opening up. The coiffed brunette plans their impeccable wedding and sporty girl’s rugby teammates dress up for the occasion. Everyone lives happily ever after.

Write me a romance about a chubby butch girl.

In the kingdom of Benifica on the island-studded planet of…

That’s not what I asked for!

You said “write me a romance set in an alternate reality.”

No! I said write me a romance about a chubby butch girl! Set it in Manhattan or Vancouver or something.

Look, I can’t do this. Sporty girls have narrow hips. That’s how you know they’re sporty.

For the love of… fine, I’ll do it myself! … On her way to graduate seminar, a chubby girl in a flannel shirt spills her half-price coffee on an introvert who stutters incomprehensibly but then jokes about Judith Butler (“you know, the whole ‘coffee person’  vs. ‘tea person’ thing is just a cultural construct…”). Both girls are stressed about school, but they don’t drink alone, because flannel girl can’t afford wine and shy girl is taking antidepressants, and also who the f*** drinks a bottle of wine alone every night? Flannel girl is bi and shy girl briefly worries that she’ll leave her for a rugby-playing ex-boyfriend, but they talk it out over their respective cups of tea and coffee. Flannel girl reaches her lowest point, wherein she has only $12 in her bank account. She says “wherein” because she’s been in graduate school too long. She drops out and works her way up to assistant manager of the local Pancake House franchise. Shy girl finishes her degree, but ends up working the reception desk at a spa, where her quietness is an asset and she makes $3 more than minimum wage.  In private, shy girl is a dominatrix, and flannel girl is into it, so now and then when they aren’t too tired they have really hot sex.  They are solvent and fond of each other, and live tolerably ever after.

That’s the worst romance I’ve ever read – no one would pay to read that.  This is why you’re wasting your PhD as a bank teller while I’m sitting on my private beach with my MacBook, cranking out six novels a year.

Ugh. Fine. … While on a run to get in shape for rugby season, a slightly chubby girl spills her Gatorade on a blonde advertising executive…

You’re catching on.

… in a pantsuit, who turns out to be on the same rugby team because they are equally sporty…

Wait… what?  No, they can’t both be sporty.

Ugh!!! … Tell me again about the Kingdom of Benifica. Can two rugby-playing dykes fall in love there? How about two shy types in frilly vintage dresses?

I’d have to check with my editor…  

Really?!!

You know, for a bank teller, you’re kind of a free spirit.

Thanks! I’m thinking of quitting my job to travel.

Oh, really? You must be at your low point! You may need to learn a lesson about accepting reality.  

Depends what you mean by reality…

Well anyway, since you’re such a quirky rebel, wanna come over to my beach house so we can swill wine and miscommunicate drunkenly, and maybe, ahem, hijinks will ensue?

Sure, why not. Can you wear a rugby uniform?

For you, babe? Anytime.