by Elisabeth Wong
Okay, I guess it’s confession time: I’m a love skeptic.
To a certain extent. And if you were wondering, yeah, that confession was for my own sake too. I don’t know that I’ve acknowledged this trait in myself before – not because I’m ashamed of being a skeptic, but because romance in general is a big no-no for me. Horrified gasp! Yes, I’m one of those people! I’m that girl whose parents wouldn’t allow her to date in high school; that one girl who (what?) hasn’t owned up to having a crush on a guy for like eleven years now.
Okay, it was eleven until like last summer, but in my defense, I was tired. (Completely and 100% relevant.)
But here’s the thing. I’m a love skeptic, yet I really enjoy well-done romance novels/stories. You know, those stories with the characters you love, with a relationship that isn’t too forced or dramatic or cheesy or unrealistic, where you can actually relate to the people and feel like you could have them as friends in real life.
In other words, most YA romance = no go. (Someone please agree with me, because otherwise this just got really awkward.)
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